Chaos
by tangledribbons
Summary: In the summer after his third year, Harry Potter finds a CD and changes the fate of the wizarding world. Punk Harry, so there will be swearing/smoking/drinking etc. H/D pairing. Don't like, don't read.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I own nothing, please don't sue me.

A/N: First chapter isssss up!

Unlike my Greek Myth longer fic, this one probably won't be written in a month. That one was for NaNoWriMo, and when I don't have that little blue bar showing me how much more I have to write, then I don't tend to write as quickly. BUT that's not to say I'll take ages on it, I'll try to update quite regularly.

There will be a pairing eventually, I just haven't decided who to pair him with yet :)

Ummm there was something else I needed to say... OH yeah! I'm rating this T, even though this chapter really doesn't need it, but later chapters most definitely will, and I know I'll forget to change it later. So yeah.

This chapter's a little short, but they will get longer, I swear :)

ANYWAY, I'll go and let you get on with reading it, please review etc. if you like it :) Or even review if you don't, any constructive feedback is welcome.

* * *

In a small town, in a nice house, in a tiny bedroom, on an uncomfortable bed lay a teenage boy. Messy black hair covered his face, obscuring the jagged lightning scar that adorned his forehead. He was staring idly up at the ceiling with eyes that were a remarkable colour of green and were usually filled with amusement, though at this moment they were clouded with resentment. He had a certain aristocratic look about his features; his cheekbones were high and sculpted, his lips were plump and would look feminine had they not been paired with the beginnings of a beard scattered across his chin. He was tall for his age, his feet reaching beyond the end of the bed to dangle inches above the mess covering what little floor space he had in his room. He was thin, there was no denying that, but on Harry, paired with the lean muscles that were a by-product of the last few years of Quidditch, it did not look unhealthy, but rather gave him an elegant, athletic grace that very few could ever truly achieve.

His name was Harry Potter, and he was pissed off.

His last school year had ended somewhat better than previous years, certainly. He now had a family member, a link to the parents he had lost when he was a baby. He had not been forced to fight Voldemort either, which was always a good thing in his eyes and nobody had died, not even Buckbeak. Even the Dursleys were being nicer than usual, scared as they were of Sirius. All in all, one could say that this should make for a happy Harry Potter, but if one did, then one would be forgetting a very important point in the equation of Harry's emotions.

Harry Potter was a teenage boy. Not only that, but he was a teenage boy who did in fact have an incredibly _unfair _life. He had been brought up by a family who didn't love him, and barely put up with his presence only to be thrown, at the tender age of eleven, into a world of magic and wonder and violence and death. Trouble and danger followed him everywhere in this new world, despite his best attempts at escaping it, and it had reached a point where Harry was simply fed up with it all.

Fed up with teachers, with detentions, with rules and restraints and being forced to risk his life again and again and again.

The door to his room crashed open, thudding loudly against the wall, snapping Harry out of his brooding thoughts. His hand grabbed his wand from his bedside table, demonstrating his Quidditch honed reflexes, and instinctively pointed it towards the figure in the doorway, on an instant alert for danger. He realised a second too late that the figure that was filling the entire doorway was his cousin, Dudley, who was now stood stock still, frozen with fear, his eyes fixed on the wand.

"What do you want?" Harry asked tiredly, lowering his arm. As soon as the wand was not in his face, Dudley recovered himself, sneering at his cousin in a way that would surely make Malfoy proud.

"Yeah, like I'd want anything from you, _freak_," he spat out, puffing up with bravado, determined to cover his earlier fear, "just putting some rubbish in the bin, that's all." With this, he turned on his heel, throwing a bundle of what were probably expensive items over his shoulder as he left, slamming the door behind him.

Harry sighed, running a hand through his hair, causing it to stick up messily in all directions. He pulled himself from the bed, wading through the mess to retrieve whatever it was that Dudley had deemed so unworthy of his interest. In Harry's experience, whatever his cousin did not like was usually something that Harry himself could find at least a little enjoyment out of. It was slightly amusing, he supposed that Dudley assumed that by putting all of his unwanted belongings in Harry's room that he was making Harry's life harder, when in fact, it helped a great deal towards staving off the boredom which often grabbed hold of him in the summer months.

He flopped back onto the bed with an armful of things, flipping through them quickly to determine if there was anything worth his interest. A slight smile graced his face as he realised that his cousin had just dumped enough stuff to hold Harry's attention for the rest of the summer. At least, if he read the books slowly, and listened to the CD's several times over.

The thought was not enough to completely dispel the resentment he was feeling, but it was a start. Grabbing the nearest CD from his bed, he put the disk into an old radio on his windowsill (another of Dudley's cast offs), throwing himself backwards onto the bed as soon as he'd pressed play.

The music exploded from the speakers viciously, capturing Harry's attention in a second. Then the lyrics began and any speck of focus that he owned which wasn't already directed towards the music pumping from his stereo was now. It was bitter, violent, angry and everything other resentful emotion Harry was feeling. It rushed through his being, lighting it on fire and banishing the brooding thoughts he had given himself over to, replacing them with ideas of chaos and anarchy.

By a few songs into the CD, Harry had begun to laugh hysterically where he lay splayed out on the bed. He hadn't felt this alive in years, if he ever had at all, with so many indescribable feelings rushing through him. He felt suddenly restless, needing to get up, to go out, to do something, _anything _that would mean this feeling wouldn't go away.

With a smile on his face, and a plan in his mind, Harry Potter jumped off his bed, grabbed his wand and jacket, shoved his feet roughly into some shoes and left.

By the time he was finished, they wouldn't know what had hit them.


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: I own quite a lot of stuff, but I don't own this.

A/N: Chapter Two for your reading enjoyment. I think I've chosen a pairing now, but I hope you'll forgive me if I don't put it up quite yet, just in case I change my mind.

* * *

Harry had thrown out his wand arm as soon as he reached the road outside his aunt and uncle's house, quickly stepping back to avoid being flattened by the Knight bus as it sped round the corner and braked sharply in front of him.

"Good afternoon, my name is Stan Shunpike and this is the Kni-," the lanky man stopped suddenly in his speech, having looked up from the piece of paper he was reading from and realised just who it was who had called the bus. "'Ere, Ernie, it's only 'arry Potter!"

Harry's mind fought for a second between annoyance and amusement, before amusement won out and he allowed a grin to spread across his face.

"Alright, Stan?" he asked, before stepping onto the bus, waltzing straight past Stan and into the nearest seat, sprawling himself out in it.

"Yeah, thank you, Mr Po'er! Where'll it be?" Stan replied enthusiastically, forgetting, in all his wonder and hero worship that he was supposed to take money from those who travelled on the bus. This, of course, suited Harry just fine, and in fact caused a slight uncharacteristic smirk to form on his face.

"Diagon Alley," he replied, glancing around the bus. Every other armchair but his own was empty, though he could hear faint sounds of someone talking upstairs, so he supposed he was not the passenger.

"Same as t'other two, then, take us away, Ern!" Stan said, reluctantly moving back up to the front of the bus, leaving Harry in peace.

The journey took all of five minutes, the bus screeching to a halt outside of the tiny pub which housed the entrance to the alley.

"Cheers Stan, Ernie," Harry called as he stepped off of the bus, turning to salute them cheekily as he left. The strange fire the music had lit inside of him was still burning, causing his confidence levels to soar; he could take on anything right now, and he would come out smiling every time.

Two pairs of footsteps followed him as he entered the Leaky Cauldron, and he glanced over his shoulder to check that they didn't mean danger. He may be able to take on anything, but that didn't mean that he wanted trouble sneaking up on him anytime soon.

"Shit," he swore under his breath. Why was it that just when he was feeling great, those two had to turn up? Well, he decided, they were not going to ruin his day, not until he was ready for them. He sped up slightly, flattening his hair with his hands to make it less distinctive, and within seconds was through the pub and the wall, and into the alley beyond.

Striding purposefully now that he could rely on the sheer amount of people milling around to disguise him, he headed straight to the far end of the alley, to the enormous building of Gringotts. The goblins watched him suspiciously as he passed, but he merely sent a smirk their way, causing their frowns to deepen. He reached the enormous doors and, in a fit of melodrama, pushed hard on both of them; they swung inwards, sunlight streaming into the dimly lit building, framing his silhouette in the doorway. Faking nonchalance, he paused for a second to allow his eyes to adjust before wandering over to a free desk.

"Hey, I need to get some money out," Harry told the goblin casually, in answer to his (or her, Harry never could quite work out the difference between male and female goblins) questioning look.

"I see," the goblin's tone was scathing enough to rival even Snape's, and for a second Harry wondered if he was going to be refused service on the grounds of not being adequately unnerved by the strange beings. But then the goblin was snapping its fingers, and another goblin was running across to take him to his vault.

"Don't you need my key or something?" he asked, curious at the lack of security.

"We know who you are, Mr Potter," was the reply, and though he couldn't help but wonder about polyjuice and other appearance changing potions and spells, Harry let the matter go. Almost.

"Oh, I doubt that," and the smirk was back in place, superior, as though he knew something that the goblin didn't. Of course, in this instance, the superiority was entirely appropriate, as Harry knew several things about himself that the goblin didn't. The goblin in question, apparently, didn't care much for the conversation, and stayed silent for the entire cart ride down to his vault. Whilst Harry was scooping gold into his pockets, however, a thought occurred to him and he was forced to engage the goblin in conversation once more.

"Um, is this like, my only vault? I mean, my mum was muggleborn, but the Potters are an old family, right? So it seems strange that there are no heirlooms, no nothing. Just gold," his voice took on a sad note towards the end, as he lingered on the thought that this was possibly all that was left; a pile of gold for a family. It hardly seemed right.

"Of course not, Mr Potter," the scathing tone was back in full force, "this is merely your own personal vault, you also have access to your mother's vault and the Potter family vault. Your father's personal vault was, of course, merged into the Potter vault when he died." Harry paused for a second, running what he had just been informed of through his head, making sense of it. Why had no-one told him before?

"Because you did not ask, no doubt," the goblin was turning now, back to the cart, and so he missed the gaping look of surprise on Harry's face.

"I didn't say that aloud, did I?" he asked, following his escort back to the vehicle.

"Of course not, Mr Potter," a nasty smile spread over the goblin's face, he was quite clearly revelling in the confusion he was causing. Harry shook his head, deciding to ponder the idea of goblin mind reading abilities later.

"Can we visit the vaults then? I mean, my mum's and the Potter's? Wait, why wasn't my mum's put in with the Potter one?" He climbed into the cart as he asked, working on automatic, so lost in thought that he didn't notice as the fire that had guided him here began to dim.

"Your mother chose not to have it so, beyond that, I have no idea," the goblin was so clearly uninterested in the subject that Harry shut up, staying in his thoughts until they reached the next vault.

"This is my mum's vault then?" he asked, receiving a curt nod in return.

"If _Sir _would hurry, we can move quickly onto the Potter vault, where the majority of the money is" the goblin said, a sneer on his pointy face. A flash of anger went through Harry and the fire that had been dimming flared up again; how dare this goblin put mere money above being able to see something of his mother's? Forcing his face into a grin (though it came out with a cruel streak to it, more grimace than grin), Harry dragged his eyes from where they had been resting on the door to his mother's vault and turned to face the goblin.

"Nah, I think I'll take my time, you know?" Before his escort had time to react, Harry had turned back, wrenched open the vault door and stepped inside, slamming the door shut behind him.

Inside the vault, he stood for a second, eyes closed and breathing heavily. The anger he had felt at the goblin was slightly irrational, but he couldn't help it. He had always had a temper, but these days he seemed to snap at the slightest of things. Maybe he needed an outlet of some kind. Or anger management. Shaking his head to clear it, he resolved to think about it later, and opened his eyes to look on his last link to his mother.

The vault was small, about the size of the Weasley's, though it was nowhere near as empty as theirs. The walls were lined with shelves which were covered in mounds of clothing, books, boxes, photo albums, jewellery, and even, in a far corner, what looked like alcohol bottles. Harry sniggered slightly; at least there was something of use to him. In the centre of the room, directly in front of where Harry was standing was a podium with a sealed letter on it. On the letter, in a neat, feminine hand was written the words 'To Harry Potter, Our Son'.

With shaking hands, Harry picked up the letter and slit it open, a sense of hope flitting through him at the possibility of knowing something of his parents.

* * *

Harry left the bank a different person. Oh, not inside, not where it really counted. In his heart he was the same brave and noble Harry Potter, but to anyone looking at him from the outside, they would find this hard to believe. His dark hair still covered his face in messy waves and his round glasses were still perched on his nose, but that was about all that could be said to be the same. Gone were the baggy, old hand-me-down clothes he had entered in, replaced instead by tight fitting, faded jeans, a baggy, slightly ripped white vest all covered with a long, black leather coat which hung around his ankles. The dirty trainers he had worn before were gone as well, swapped for dirty converse, which must at one point have been white. A grey rucksack was slung over one shoulder, looking as though it was rather heavier than should have been possible for such a small bag. He looked almost obscenely muggle, and several of the witches and wizards he passed as he strode down the alley sneered at him slightly, edging around him as though he were dirty. He wondered idly if any of them would still do the same if they realised who he was, but, he supposed, the type of purebloods they most likely were would only seek to avoid him more if they knew that he had defeated their master.

Unconsciously, his hand gripped the letter in his pocket, and he couldn't help but relive in his head the words he had read not an hour before.

_Dearest Harry, _it had read,

_There are two ways in which you could be receiving this letter. The first, and the way we are hoping for is on your eighteenth birthday. If it is, then happy birthday, son! But, the realists in us (and by us, I mean mainly me, as your father is too much an optimist) must admit the possibility that you are getting this far earlier than you should be, the reason being that we have died in the war. If we haven't, then feel free to mock us as we ramble on about how much we love you and stuff. Just bare with us, yeah? _

_At the moment we are in hiding, under the Fidelius charm. We won't write down where we are, for fear of this letter falling into the wrong hands, but if it's true that we have died, then you will have inherited the property anyway. Our good friend Peter Pettigrew is our secret keeper (though we have told everyone that it is Sirius- sneaky, aren't we? May as well be Slytherins), so we should be safe. But just in case we aren't, we decided to put together this vault for you, full of all of our favourite things. Well, my favourite things and your father's collection of 'necessary items for a true marauder'. _

_If you want more of an explanation of anything, then just ask Peter, Sirius (Sirius Black, that is), Remus Lupin or Alice Longbottom. They know almost all the stories behind it all, and we're too lazy to write them all down. Plus, every time we try, you (baby you, that is) knock something over on that blasted broom of yours (your father objects here to it being called blasted, but I don't care- it's a menace!), and we have to stop writing to sort it out. Besides, if we really are dead, then we'd love for you to find parents in our friends, and we know that they would love it too. _

_Always remember that we love you, and we are so incredibly sorry that we weren't there to see you grow up. Do us proud, son,_

_Love always,_

_Mum and Dad_

A tear came to Harry's eye just remembering the words, and he hurriedly dashed it away with a knuckle. A teenage boy saw though, and stared in wonder at what he was seeing. Since when had the Boy Who Lived To Be Annoying been so... hot?


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: Stop calling your lawyer, I already said I don't own any of it!

A/N: No-one's mentioned it yet but I thought I'd throw it out there anyway. I know that Harry in the books is kind of short and weedy and everything, and my version is all tall and hot and everything but... Okay, so I have no excuse except that I wanted him to be hot. Hot is more fun to write, and this fic is meant to be fun for me to write, so.. yeah. Just thought I'd explain before someone had the chance to complain :D

Anyway, thanks for the reviews and faves etc.

Enjoy!

* * *

A deep, contented sigh fell from Harry's lips and he leant back in his chair, stretching his arms above his head. A shadow fell over his table, and he peered up at the figure through lidded, tired eyes.

"Good grub, Mister Potter?" Tom asked eagerly, beginning to gather the dirty plates from the table.

"Excellent, thanks Tom," the young man answered, stifling a yawn. Tom chuckled lightly, smiling at Harry fondly.

"S'only two in the afternoon, tired already?" Harry grinned, rubbing a hand over his eyes.

"It's been a long day, Tom. And I haven't even done my shopping yet!" he groaned. Tom laughed at the young man in front of him, and marvelled at how different he looked and acted compared to the last time he was here. The Harry of last year would have been unfailingly polite and shy. This Harry, however; well, Tom may not approve of the clothing choices (reminding him as it did, of one Sirius Black), but he couldn't otherwise say a bad word against him. The boy was confident and charming, and though he was still polite the edge of servitude had disappeared.

"I'd best be off then, Tom, I have a _lot _to buy. I'll see you soon, thanks for the food," Harry stood and grabbed his jacket and bag, saluting absently in the barman's direction as he strode off out of the pub and back through the wall into Diagon Alley. Absent-mindedly, he shoved his jacket into his rucksack and tried to decide where to go first. _Zonko's, _he decided and headed off in the right direction with a grin, knowing that he would be doing his father proud this next year at Hogwarts.

It was almost an hour later when he finally emerged from the joke shop, laden with bags of dung bombs, hiccough sweets, fake shampoos (which dyed the person's hair instead of cleaning it), sugar quills, and some other, rarer items. He had a dangerous smirk on his face which promised nothing good to those who ended up on the receiving end of his pranks.

Flourish and Blotts was next, and though Hermione may have been proud of him for buying books other than those he had to for school, he had the distinct impression that she would thoroughly disapprove of the tomes he was interested in. He was reading a book called 'Potions for the Practical Pranker' when a figure approached him. So engrossed was he that he didn't realise the other presence until it spoke, causing him to start and drop his book.

"Fuck!" he exclaimed, jumping backwards to avoid having flattened toes, "Jesus, if this is broken, you're paying for it, mate." Harry bent to pick up the book, having still not looked up at his companion. When he heard the slight chuckle that his remark had caused, he snapped his head upwards, cringing when he realised that he had indeed recognised that voice.

"Really, Potter? Why? Do you not have the money?" Malfoy taunted, sneering down at his enemy. Harry started again, suddenly noticing that he was still on the floor and stood up.

"Sure, Malfoy, I'm poor, whatever you want to believe," Harry snapped, cursing himself for not just going home as soon as he had realised that morning that Malfoy was in town, "Where are your minions?" Malfoy sneered slightly, though Harry was unsure if this was a reaction to his words, or if Malfoy's face was merely made to look that way.

"I could ask you the same thing, Potter," he spat back, "where's Weasley and your pet mudblood?" Harry didn't even give Malfoy time to blink; as soon as that word had left the blonde's mouth, Harry's fist connected with his jaw. Reflecting on the scene later, Harry would realise that it had been quite beautiful. The punch had been far harder than Hermione's a few months ago, not only breaking Malfoy's nose, but causing him to fly backwards and fall on his arse. Blood splattered across the area, covering books and people equally. Harry, well aware of the crowd that was gathering and the yelling of the shop's owner, knelt down over Malfoy, one leg either side of the injured boy. He pushed his face right down into the blonde's , grabbing his shirt in one hand to keep him in place.

"Now, Malfoy, if I _ever _hear you say that fucking word again, you'll get worse than a broken nose, okay?" Harry's voice was low but threatening, and Malfoy cowered slightly under his fierce gaze. The blonde gave a slight nod, and Harry released him, standing up and facing the crowd.

"What?" he challenged. For a minute no-one said anything, so Harry took advantage of the silence and grabbed his rucksack from where he had dropped it on the floor.

"You... you're going to have to pay for those, you know!" The shopkeeper spluttered, gesturing at the shelves of blood-covered books. Harry raised an eyebrow at the statement, and his lips quirked in amusement.

"Really? Book payment before worry about the injured boy? Well, it is Malfoy, so yeah, I guess it makes sense that the books are more important. Tell you what, though, we'll get Malfoy to pay for them, considering he's so rich and all, ain't that right, ferret?" he directed the last over his shoulder, where the boy in question was staggering to his feet and glaring at Harry's back. "Brilliant!" Harry exclaimed before giving the blonde a chance to answer, "I'll just be off then. I'll come back another time for my books, when there's less of a crowd, yeah?"

"You'll do no such thing!" Blustered the shopkeeper, "you are banned from this shop, boy, we won't have your type in here!" Harry laughed, knowing that had the man recognised him as Harry Potter then there would have been no problem. The Boy Who Lived could have killed Malfoy and suffered no penalty. But, he supposed, The Boy Who Lived would also never be seen dead dressed like such a muggle, never mind such a scruffy one.

"Alright, _sir,_ keep your knickers on," he mocked, grinning as he strode out of the door.

* * *

Harry was lying on his bed, exhausted after a day of shopping. After his trip to Diagon Alley, he had ventured into muggle London, buying far more than he actually needed, but enjoying every gruelling second of it. He had a sudden thought and turned on his side slightly, rifling through his rucksack with one hand. After a few seconds searching, his hand came out having retrieved the items he wanted. A silver lighter (apparently having been donated by Sirius) and a pack of cigarettes sat in his hand. Smoking, it seemed, was an essential part of marauder life, if the note he had found hidden in the cigarette packet was to be trusted.

_Harry,_ it had read, in a scribbly hand all too similar to his own,

_If me and your mum are alive, then DO NOT tell her about this. Seriously. She would kill me. She made me 'quit' (it's in quotes because I never actually quit. But shhhh!), she kept going on about lung cancer and all that muggle rubbish. But, we're wizards! As if our magic would let tarmac or whatever build up in our lungs. Pfft. Oh and the spell to stop yourself from coughing is on the back of this. Why do muggles carry on smoking anyway if all it makes them do is cough? Weird. Anyway, marauders must smoke, because it is tradition. So don't you dare go to your mum with this!_

_Love, Dad._

_(PS, the 'love' is only for if we're dead, if I'm still alive, and you are even now blackmailing me with this, then it is not directed at you, kay?)_

Grinning, he flicked open the lighter and held the end of a cigarette to it. Annoyingly, he wouldn't be able to use the spell until he was back at school, but muggles did it every day, and if they could do it (and enjoy it) without the use of magic, then so would Harry. He lifted the cigarette to his mouth, and was about to take his first drag when his door slammed open for the second time that day.

"Boy!" his uncle bellowed, "I do not- just what do you think you are doing? Are you smoking? Petunia and I raise you, we let you live in our house and eat our food, and you have the bloody audacity to smoke under our roof? Not only that, but I do not expect to come home and hear that you haven't done your chores! Petunia tells me you were out all day, running around with your freaky little friends, no doubt! And what in the bloody hell are you wearing?" Vernon's face seemed to become redder and more akin to a beetroot with each word he spoke. Spittle flew from his lips as he worked himself into a rage, and his double (nay, triple) chins wobbled as he shook in fury. Harry could not help himself in what he did next, however much he wished he could have stopped the noise that came from his mouth.

Harry chuckled. It was an instinctive reaction to the image of his trembling, bright red uncle in front of him, and it was not done on purpose. But even if Vernon had known these things, it would not alter the fact of what had happened, and it would not alter the anger it resulted in.

"OUT!" Vernon yelled, spit flying everywhere as he pointed towards the door.

"What? Seriously?" Harry asked dumbly, a look of confusion on his face. He had only been back for summer for a week and he was already being kicked out.

"I want you out, boy! You have five minutes to get your grubby little belongings, and then you are to get the hell out of my house! And don't you even _think_ about coming back!" With this, Vernon stormed from the room, slamming the door so hard that it bounced back and hit the wall. Harry stared at the space his uncle had just vacated for a full second before his brain could fully comprehend what had just happened.

"Okay," he said aloud, nodding absently as he pulled himself off of his bed. He hadn't yet bothered unpacking all of his purchases from where they had been stored in his bottomless backpack, and most of his school stuff was still in his trunk. He slowly picked up a few things from the floor and ejected the CD he had listened to that morning. _Had that only been this morning? It felt like a lifetime ago_, he thought as he shoved them into his rucksack before hefting it onto his shoulder.

Harry took one last glance around his room before walking out, tugging his trunk down the stairs with one hand, carrying the long, leather jacket with the other. He didn't look back as he left through the front door, raising his wand hand as he reached the road, calling on the Knight Bus's services for the second time that day.


	4. Chapter 4

Disclaimer: I asked Google, and Google says I don't own it. Google never lies.

A/N: I have been ill all christmas holidays :( it has sucked. But, on the upside, this has given me plenty of time to write and paint, so several personal projects are well on their way to completion. YAY.

Thank you all for all the reviews, alerts, faves and whatnot.

I hope you enjoy!

* * *

Harry ate in the Leaky Cauldron for the second time in a day that night, though he was in far worse a mood than he had been at lunchtime. Tom noticed, of course, that the happy boy he had seen earlier had disappeared but he didn't comment on the change and Harry was in no mood to be volunteering information. So he ate his meal in silence and Tom did his job. And so Tom did not notice when the light bulb flicked on in Harry's head, and he didn't see the boy's face light up as the perfect idea hit him. The barkeeper did, however, notice when Harry leapt from his chair and dashed up the stairs, towards the room he had rented for the night. Tom frowned slightly, wondering what was troubling the boy so.

In his room, Harry was attaching a letter to Hedwig's leg. She had been out hunting when he had left the Dursley's, but the snowy owl had once again demonstrated how clever she was by turning up at his window not half an hour after Harry himself arrived. With a quick pet on the head and a slight shove, Hedwig was out the window, flying away with an indignant hoot to Harry's best chance of a good summer.

Slightly happier, Harry fell onto his bed, not bothering to undress. He gave into exhaustion within seconds, worn out from such a long day of shopping and fights.

* * *

Harry awoke to the hooting of an owl. Without bothering to open his eyes, he groped around in search of the offending creature without any luck. The owl hooted again, and it was then that he noticed the weight on his head.

"Ok, Hedwig, I'm awake, now can you please get off of my head?" he asked, amused at his pet's antics. She flew away, landing on the bedpost and Harry sat up and stretched his arms above his head, stifling a yawn and looking around the unfamiliar room with bleary eyes. It took a second for him to realise where he was, and for the events of the previous day to flood back into his mind.

"Eurgh, did that really all happen?" he asked the room, grabbing his glasses from the pillow where they had fallen during the night. Hedwig hooted again, drawing Harry's mind back to the present and, more specifically, to the scroll attached to her leg. "Alright, girl, thanks," he spoke soothingly, knowing how vicious the bird could become if she were ignored any longer. And then another memory from the day before slotted into place in his brain, and he realised who the letter was from. Wide awake now, he jumped from the bed and grabbed the parchment from Hedwig, ripping open the seal, eyes frantically scanning the contents. There was a second of silence, and then there was an incredibly loud

"YES!" followed by a lot of air punching and grinning. Hedwig watched on disapprovingly, though this could be because she was still wondering how he could have slept in his clothes. I mean, honestly, she thought, he didn't even take his shoes off! Harry wasn't privy to his pet's inner monologue however, and so he carried on his celebration oblivious to the less than enthusiastic owl.

* * *

The street was empty but for Harry. He made a strange figure; his hair was messy, as usual, and he had changed his clothes into a tight, maroon t-shirt with ripped, black jeans. Scruffy converse adorned his feet and his leather coat hung around him like a cape. If this had been all, then he would have fit right in to certain factions of muggle society. It was the wizarding accents that made him stand out; the owl sat regally on his left shoulder, the wand holster strapped to his right forearm, the beaten up trunk he was dragging along with him. It was lucky, perhaps that the street was empty, else some very difficult questions were sure to have come his way.

Harry didn't consider it lucky that he was alone, however, in fact he was growing quite frustrated. He had walked up and down this street perhaps five times, and yet there was still no sign of the address he was looking for. He sighed, searching his pockets for the letter; perhaps he had read the address wrong?

"Hey there, pup!" the voice came from directly behind him, causing the paranoid boy to whirl around, dislodging Hedwig in the process; he snapped his wand into his hand and pointed it at the figure's face.

"And who are you?" he asked. The man in front of him was tall, with long, scraggly black hair and an emaciated face. He was dirty, as though he hadn't showered in months, and a faint smell of wet dog lingered around his personage. Harry recognised him straight away, of course, as the godfather he had discovered and freed just months before; it didn't hurt to be cautious, however.

"I'm your fairy godmother, who'd you think?" Sirius grinned as Harry rolled his eyes and lowered his wand, "Hey! Less of the eye-rolling, I'm being serious!"

"Yeah, yeah, you're always serious," Harry found himself unable to keep a straight face and grinned, launching himself into his godfather's arms. They clung to each other for a few minutes, each glad to see one of the few family members they had left.

"Come on, pup, we'd best get inside, it doesn't do to hang around on the streets when you're a convicted murderer," Sirius broke up the hug and grabbed Harry's trunk, "the address is number 12, Grimmauld Place."

"Yeah, I know, you wrote it in your let- oh, shit," Harry mouth dropped open as he turned to look at the row of houses. Number 12, Grimmauld Place had appeared, pushing the houses either side of it out. Sirius was already halfway up the garden path by the time Harry managed to stop gawking. Pulling himself together, he hurried to follow his godfather, hundreds of questions already buzzing through his head, not least of which was why the house was in such a state. The small amount of front garden was overgrown and neglected, matching perfectly with the front of the building. Dead vines wove their way over the brickwork, covering several of the grubby windows. The door Sirius was opening had paint peeling off of it along with several burn marks, possibly from spell fire.

"Nice looking place you got here, Padfoot," Harry smirked, gazing around at the building. He missed the happy smile that appeared on Sirius's face at the use of the marauder name.

"Well, you can go back to the Leaky Cauldron and wait for Dumbledore to find you if you want," Sirius threatened, though they both knew that it would never happen. With a final push, the older man finally got the door to open and they stepped inside, Harry keeping his wand trained ahead of him, wary of the ominous house. Dust swirled around their feet as they stepped into the hallway, their footsteps echoing eerily in the empty house.

"If this is your house, Pads, then why does it feel so... wrong?" Harry whispered his question, not wanting to disturb the quiet of the house. And it did feel wrong. It was too quiet, too empty, too hollow. The door was still open behind them, giving them a dim light to see by, but in Harry's opinion this only served to worsen the appearance of the interior. The light threw dark shadows across the hallway, making it almost impossible to see what was real and what was merely shadow; Harry thought he could make out several portraits lining the walls, but he couldn't see the occupants who's eyes he could feel on him.

"It's my house now, but I inherited it from my family. Dark wizards and witches, the lot of them. My dear old mum died when I was in Azkaban, so I haven't had a chance to check it out yet. It's been empty for a while, I'm assuming."

"Wait, you're assuming? So we could be walking into a den of Death Eaters?" Harry asked, incredulous.

"Nah, no-one but me can get in, the Fidelius charm gets passed down by blood, see?" Harry stopped and straightened up from his defensive stance.

"So, if no-one can get in, why are we sneaking about, scared, like a couple of pansies?" he asked, a grin beginning to form on his face. Sirius stopped and turned, looking at Harry in confusion for a second before scowling and punching his godson lightly on the arm.

"Oh shut up, you ass," he muttered, "And give us some light, can't you? I haven't exactly got a wand here."

"And I'm not exactly over age, here, so unless you want me expelled from Hogwarts, then no-can-do," Harry replied, rolling his eyes.

"The charms on the house interfere with the Trace and all that, so you can cast as many spells as you want to," Sirius waved a hand slightly, as if it were no big deal. But Harry was grinning; the first piece of good news he'd had in a while.

"Seriously?" he asked, stupidly. Sirius smiled, unable to believe his godson had fallen into that one.

"I'm always Sirius!" He quipped, bounding off into the house before Harry could retaliate. Shaking his head, Harry started to follow him, albeit at a slower pace.

"Lumos," he whispered, waiting a minute before being satisfied that no letter from the ministry would be coming. Once he was sure, he breathed a sigh of relief, and the grin adorning his face grew, if possible, wider. He looked around at his surroundings as he walked; the light from his wand banished the shadows, yet the corridor he was in was no less intimidating for it. Stern faced witches and wizards stared down at him from their portraits, disdain clear on their painted faces. The walls appeared to have been painted grey, though that could just have been the effect of the accumulated dirt and mould. Cobwebs lined every corner of the ceiling, their inhabitants scuttling away from the light, disappearing into cracks in the walls.

"Come on, pup, less dawdling, more exploring!" Sirius called from a room straight ahead of Harry. The messy haired teen quickened his pace, pushing open the door to what appeared to be a kitchen. Sirius bounded into view, an excited grin on his face.

"Let's see what this place has got to offer, eh?"


	5. Chapter 5

Disclaimer: Nope, still don't own it.

A/N: Yay two chapters in as many days! Or maybe three days, I'm actually not sure when I posted the last one. But never mind.

Thanks to the reviewer who pointed out my mistake in the last chapter, it's all fixed now :)

Also, I don't mean to be pushy, I really don't, but any chance of some reviews? I _really _don't want to be one of those people who are all like 'if you don't review I'm not gonna post anymore!', and that's not what I'm saying at all. It's just I've noticed a lot of people adding this to their favourites and to their story alerts, but I've had hardly any reviews. I like to know what you guys think, what parts of my writing you enjoy, and which bits I need to work on and everything. I also love hearing your ideas for where you think I'm going to go with the story.

So thank you to those who have reviewed already, and I hope to hear from the rest of you soon, hint hint :D

Enjoy!

* * *

Harry groaned as the light hit his eyes. His head was throbbing and there was something digging into his back, but he found that he had no motivation whatsoever to move. If only that damn light wasn't so bright! He shifted slightly, rolling over onto his back and pulling the- wait a second, he thought, where are the covers? He groped around, searching for the duvet that he so desperately wanted to hide under, but to no avail.

"What the hell are you doing, pup?" Sirius's voice sounded from somewhere above him, and Harry decided it was finally time to crack open an eyelid. He squinted blearily up through one eye at the source of the voice, throwing an arm over his head in an attempt to shield his poor retina from the light, which had, surprisingly, become far brighter since he opened his eye. The hazy figure of Sirius swam into view, looking, if at all possible, more unkempt than he had done yesterday. There was something else different about him too, Harry thought as he stared up at his godfather, though he couldn't quite put his finger on what exactly it was. But this wasn't what interested Harry. What interested Harry was that Sirius appeared to be standing in the kitchen. And if Sirius was standing in the kitchen, then it stood to reason that Harry, too, was also in the kitchen. And as Sirius was so high up, then it wasn't too much of a leap to come to the conclusion that Harry was on the floor. But why, exactly, was Harry on the kitchen floor?

The messy haired teen groaned again, rolling over and closing his eye, hiding from the light and deciding that those kinds of questions were for another time. A time when he didn't have a herd of hippogriffs stampeding through his skull.

"Oi, get up you lazy git," Sirius whined, nudging his godson in the side with a foot, "You're not the only one with a hangover, you know! I want some bacon, and not only can I not cook, but we have no bacon in the house. Just a lot of now empty bottles and a lump of mould that I think used to be cheese."

Harry groaned. Again. Louder. He hoped that it would be enough to show Sirius that he would not be getting up anytime soon. There were a few minutes more foot nudging, followed by a minute or so of shoulder shaking. But Harry was strong and managed to ignore all attempts to rouse him and it seemed, judging by the retreating footsteps, that he had been successful and his godfather had given up. Smiling to himself, Harry curled his knees up to his chest and prepared to go back to sleep. He was just beginning to drift off when a bucket of water was dumped unceremoniously over his head.

"SHIT!" he gasped, shooting upright and breathing heavily from the shock, "What the hell was that for, Pads?"

"What? I didn't do anything," Sirius said, an innocent expression plastered onto his face. But Harry wasn't listening. Harry was staring at the dripping wet hair that was hanging in his face. The dripping wet _red _hair. Not black, _red. _Gingerly, he poked it with his finger, wondering if it would disappear. But no, it was still there. And still red.

"Err, Pads, is my hair red?" he asked cautiously, looking up at his godfather who was now pulling out a chair and sitting down at the table.

"Huh? Oh yeah, it is. And mine's purple," Sirius answered distractedly, peering into empty bottles, trying to find something to drink.

"And that doesn't seem strange to you?" Harry asked incredulously, climbing to his feet only to find that standing caused his head to pound about ten times more than sitting had. He hurriedly grabbed a chair and slumped into it, holding his head in his hands. Sirius looked up at him, an enormous grin on his face.

"You don't remember last night, do you?" Harry cast his mind back, trying to make sense of the random sections of memories he had left in his head.

"I remember firewhiskey. Lots of firewhiskey. And something about putting a house elf in the toilet. But that bit may have been a dream," he replied, shaking his head as if hoping that everything would click into place.

"Oh no, that happened alright. I took pictures," Sirius said, smiling happily, "but other than that? You remember nothing?"

"Tiny glimpses, but nothing that makes sense. Are you going to tell me why I have red hair or not, Pads?"

"Go buy me bacon and I'll tell you over breakfast, how's that?" Harry groaned. Again.

"Go buy yourself bacon," he answered, letting his head fall onto the table.

"Escaped convict, anyone? I can't just go buy bacon. How fucking embarrassing would that be if I got caught? I can see the headlines now; 'How does Sirius Black like his eggs in the morning? In handcuffs, please!'" Harry stared at his godfather incredulously, wondering if those words had really just come from his mouth.

"Really?" he asked, trying to stop himself from laughing, "Eggs? That was the best you could come up with?" Sirius sniffed at his godson, offended.

"As if you could think of a better one. Now go buy me bacon!" he whined, looking at Harry with his best puppy dog eyes.

"Alright, alright, let me have a shower first, at least," Harry gave in, recognising that he would get no peace until bacon was in the house. Besides, all the bacon talk had made him hungry, and he didn't fancy eating mouldy cheese.

"Nope, bacon first, shower later," Sirius exclaimed happily, "Besides, you can hardly argue that when the time for showering comes, I am the one who is in dire need of one, not yourself." Unable to fault Padfoot's logic, Harry nodded his head, rising wearily from his chair.

"Are you coming with me?" he asked, looking around for his leather jacket. Finding it underneath a chair, he pulled it on, turning to look at his godfather. In the place of the tall, unkempt man was a large, purple dog looking up at him expectantly.

"Huh," Harry muttered to himself, "still purple. Interesting." Absentmindedly patting his pockets to make sure he had some money, he left the house, dog shaped godfather in tow, and somehow managed to stagger his way to The Leaky Cauldron. Once there, he pushed the door open and basically dashed inside, more grateful than he could say for the dim lighting of the pub.

"Hey, Tom," he called, heading towards the bar.

"You alright there, Harry? You're looking a bit worse for wear," the bar tender asked, wondering if he should bother asking about the red hair and the purple dog. He decided not to.

"Just a rough night," Harry chuckled, grinning at his friend, "I was wondering if there were any butchers around here."

"Muggle, or in the alley?"

"In the alley, preferably, I haven't got any muggle money on me," Harry said, checking his pockets again for his wallet.

"There's Hack's then, just up the main street, then take the first left and it'll be on your right, next to the bakers."

"Cheers, Tom," Harry said, moving towards the back door, "I'll be sure to drop in again soon."

"Bye Harry," Tom called, smiling at the cheeky salute he got in return.

Harry stepped into Diagon Alley and followed the bartender's instructions, Padfoot hot on his heels. He found the butcher's easily enough as the queue stretched around the corner. Sighing and muttering about the things he did for people, he joined the back of the queue and prepared to wait. He was straight away interrupted, however, when Padfoot started barking at the person in front.

"Shut the hell up, Pads!" he hissed, "I'm sorry, mate, I don't know what's up with h- _Malfoy_."

"Potter," the blonde answered, a sneer already dancing on his lips.

"Bloody hell, can I not come here, just once, without seeing you?" Harry asked, running a hand over his face and through his red waves of hair. Malfoy, following the action with his eyes, laughed suddenly, causing Harry to groan. Again. "What now?" he asked, shielding his eyes from the blinding glare caused by the sun reflecting off of Malfoy's hair.

"I didn't know you were that desperate to be a Weasley is all, Potter," Malfoy replied, still sniggering.

"Oh just... shhh," Harry mentally kicked himself for not being able to think of a comeback, but found that he didn't have enough energy for in depth insults. Malfoy quirked an eyebrow, derision clear on his face before turning back to face the front of the line. They were silent for the rest of the wait, both more than happy to forego any fighting for once. Finally, however, it was their turns to be served and they moved up to the counter, each to be greeted by a different butcher. Harry ordered his bacon, deciding on a whim to grab some sausages and eggs too, a decision that Padfoot heartily approved of, if the panting was anything to go by. It was when he was almost out of the door that Malfoy spoke again, calling to Harry from his place still at the counter.

"Next time you come out, Potter, you might want to consider showering first," he drawled, gaining the attention of everyone in the shop. Harry sighed and flipped him off, too tired for an argument. Malfoy watched him leave, a strange feeling of disappointment settling in his chest, until, when they were almost out of earshot, the blonde heard Harry mutter:

"See, Sirius, I told you showering was more important than bacon." Malfoy smiled; his father would like this. Oh yes, his father would like this a lot.

* * *

A/N: I'm sorry if nothing really seemed to happen in this chapter, it just sort of wrote itself.


	6. Chapter 6

Disclaimer: I OWN EVERYTHING. I should, of course, here mention that I am lying in the previous statement.

A/N: *evils* no reviews? not even one? shame on you all.

Enjoy the chapter, shameful people! :D

* * *

Chapter Six

A tall man strode purposefully through the ministry of magic. He had long blonde hair, so pale that it was almost white, and piercing, grey eyes. His clothes were tailored, all black and expensive looking and he carried a cane topped with a silver snake's head. He looked as though he could have been handsome twenty years ago, and as though he would have been in fashion about that time as well. The crowds parted before him, intimidated by the powerful man, though there was no respect in their gazes.

He stopped before the minister's office, knocking politely on the door and waiting for the customary 'come in' before entering the room.

"Lucius, wonderful to see you, everything's alright I trust?" gushed the minister, jumping up to shake the blonde man's hand.

"I am afraid, minister that there is an urgent matter which must be brought to your attention," Lucius said smoothly, attempting to keep the joy at the news out of his voice.

"Oh?" Fudge asked, a worried expression on his face, "What is it?"

"I am afraid that we must consider the fact that Harry Potter may be harbouring the escaped convict, Sirius Black."

* * *

"So let me get this straight," Harry said through a mouthful of egg, "After we found the firewhiskey, which I remember by the way, so there was really no need to tell me that part of the story, we got completely drunk and not only tried to flush your house elf down the toilet, but drew moustaches on every single portrait in the house?"

"Yup, along with some other stuff, but I don't remember any of it clearly enough to tell you for sure what happened," Sirius answered quickly, eager to shove more bacon into his mouth.

"Ok. But that really doesn't explain the whole hair colour thing."

"Oh yeah... I don't actually remember why that happened," Sirius said, tapping his chin with his fork as he spoke.

"But you said this morning that you did! That was the whole reason I went and sodding bought you bacon!" Harry exclaimed indignantly.

"Yeah, well, I really wanted bacon," Sirius whined, "Oh! Wait, I have an idea! KREACHER!" There was a second's pause in which Harry winced, the hippogriffs once again using his skull as a stomping ground, and then there was a loud pop and a dirty elf who smelt faintly of toilet water appeared on the table between the two. "Kreacher, honey," Sirius started, grinning like a maniac, "I order you to tell me why me and Harry have dyed hair."

"Stupid _master _and his filthy half-blood brat wanted to have a slumber party, like girls. So they decided to wash and braid each other's hair," Kreacher gave each of them a dirty look before popping out, obviously having decided that he had given enough of an answer to satisfy them. Harry stared disbelievingly at the space in which the house elf had been, the pieces of the puzzled clicking together in his head.

"But why did that make our hair different colours? And why isn't it braided?" Sirius complained, pouting slightly. Harry blinked and looked over at his godfather who had carried on with his breakfast, oblivious to Harry's confusion.

"Are you actually complaining that I didn't braid your hair?" Harry asked, holding up a hand when Sirius opened his mouth to speak, "On second thoughts, I don't want to know. And as to your first question, Pads, I think I may know the answer." Harry looked down at his plate sheepishly, knowing that Sirius wouldn't like what he was about to say.

"How?" Sirius asked without looking up from his food.

"Well, umm, the other day, I went to Zonko's, and I bought these really cool shampoos that you switch for people's normal shampoo and it dyes their hair a different colour," Harry paused in his story, wondering if he should really admit his responsibility for their hair. He bravely decided to soldier on and, taking a deep breath, began speaking again. "I think that maybe when we wanted to wash and braid our hair, I may have volunteered my shampoo for use." Sirius carried on eating, and Harry began to worry. He must have really pissed him off, for Pads to be ignoring him like this. Or was he only pretending not to mind, when really he was plotting pranks that would humiliate his godson? Or was he... not listening to a word Harry was saying?

"Pads, you listening?" Harry asked cautiously.

"Hmm?" Sirius asked, still not taking his eyes from his plate of food, "You say something Harry?"

"Nothing at all, Pads, nothing at all," Harry said, grinning from ear to ear. He was safe, for now at least.

* * *

"Bin! Bin! Bin, bin, bin!" Sirius called out happily in a sing-song voice, pulling various items from the cabinets that lined the walls and throwing them over his shoulder.

"You do realise, Pads, that the floor behind you isn't actually a bin?" Harry called from where he was lying on one of the old dusty sofas. The only response he got, however, was a pause and a glare before Sirius carried on ransacking his childhood home. Harry couldn't blame him, though. He supposed he would be the same, if not worse, if he grew up and assumed he had escaped from the Dursley's forever only to be forced to move back to Privet Drive. Tuning out his godfather, the messy haired teen mused over all that had happened to him in the last couple of days, idly playing with a few strands of his still-red hair as he thought.

He had been thrown out of the Dursley's, had read letters from his mother and father, had beaten up Malfoy, moved in with his godfather and been drunk for the first time in his life. He had taken charge of his own life, he supposed, albeit in a very accidental way. But it wasn't enough to dispel the restlessness in him, the buzzing in the back of his mind. The buzzing that had begun when he listened to that CD and that hadn't left since. It had dimmed, sure, but it was still there and seemed very unwilling to leave. It told him to get out of here, to do something. To drink, to fight, to laugh, to _live._ But that wasn't Harry, was it? Harry didn't go out and take risks, he had enough of them forced upon him. Harry didn't drink or fight, unless he was defending others, of course. Harry didn't laugh much either, now he came to think of it, there was always too much to worry about to have time for laughter. Harry didn't do anything, really.

A tap at the window drew him away from his thoughts, and he looked up to see a tawny owl sitting outside, staring at him. Sighing, he rolled off the sofa and stumbled over to the window, his hangover from the morning still firmly in place. He opened the window and the owl stuck out its leg, glaring at him until he took the letter. Closing the window, he turned and threw himself back onto the sofa, causing a slight cloud of dust to fly into the air. The envelope looked official and when he turned it over, he found the ministry of magic's seal staring back at him.

"Huh," he muttered, speaking to himself as Sirius was still far too busy making a mess to pay any attention, "This can't be good." With a feeling of trepidation, he ripped open the envelope and shook out the letter. He unfolded the parchment and scanned it quickly, eyes widening the further down the page he got.

"Pads..." he called, "I think we have a problem." Sirius, however, didn't hear over his own singing, and Harry was forced to try again. "PADS!" he yelled, sitting up to look over the arm of the sofa, "I said, we have a fucking problem, would you listen to me?" His godfather looked up, annoyance written all over his face.

"Sheesh, calm down pup, no need to yell at a bloke," he muttered, reaching out a hand for the letter Harry was waving in his direction. He read it quickly, his face turning as white as paper.

"Harry, mate," he whispered, "I think we have a problem." If the situation hadn't been quite so serious, Harry was sure he would not have had the willpower to stop himself from laughing. As it was, laughing was the last thing he wanted to do.


	7. Chapter 7

Disclaimer: I do not claim this.

A/N: Nice long chapter for you all. I hope people are still enjoying this, and I swear that pairings and such will come into it later, but this is not primarily a romance, so you may have to wait a little while.

Enjoy!

* * *

Harry stood tall and confident at the entrance of the ministry. The dye in his messy hair had faded, leaving it a dark crimson colour that he rather liked. His round glasses were perched on his nose, and his long leather jacket was accompanied by ripped, faded jeans and a tight black t-shirt; a stark contrast to the wizarding robes of the other figures hurrying about. He strolled casually towards the security desk, weaving his way carefully through the crowds of people.

"Harry Potter, here for interrogation," he drawled in response to the guard's querying look.

"Indeed. Place your wand on the scales, please," the balding guard said curtly, eyeing Harry as though he thought he was up to no good. Harry flicked his wrist, causing his wand to jump from the holster (hidden by his jacket) into his hand. Smirking slightly, he placed the wand on the scales indicated and waited as the guard wrote down the details.

"Very well, Mister Potter," he said finally, handing the wand back to its owner, "If you could take the lift down to Level Nine, then carry on down the stairs to Level Ten where your interrogation will take place in Courtroom Three." Harry nodded, grabbing his wand back and sliding it into his holster. Turning away from the desk, he sought out the elevators, spotting them quickly behind a crowd of ministry workers.

The lift he entered was crowded, and he got several dirty looks for leaving a large space behind him, all of which he ignored, standing his ground. The last of the crowd got out at Level Eight, and Harry travelled the last part alone. Sirius took this opportunity to fill his godson with nerves.

"Harry, mate," he whispered, stepping forward from behind Harry, where he had been hiding with the aid of the invisibility cloak, "Are you sure this is a good idea?" The worry and doubt was obvious in his tone, and Harry felt his stomach churn as he thought of everything that could go wrong with his plan. Swallowing, he forced his concerns to the back of his mind, needing to at least appear confident when he entered the Courtroom. Just then, the lift's doors opened and a female voice announced their arrival at Level Nine. Stepping out, he ignored Sirius and strode forwards. He quickly found the stairs and within minutes was outside Courtroom Three.

He paused for a second, wondering whether to knock or not, before deciding that he ought to at least begin by being polite and rapping his knuckles against the wooden door.

"Enter," a voice called from within and Harry pushed open the door and, with his shoulders back and his head held high, he stepped into the courtroom, pausing again to allow Sirius time to enter behind him before shutting the door.

The room was small and rectangular, with raised seats along the far side and a single, uncomfortable looking chair placed in the centre of the room. The walls were grey and the light was fairly dim, giving the room the same eerie feeling as the dungeons at Hogwarts. There were six people seated in the raised area; the Minister for Magic himself, in his lime bowler hat as usual, an older witch with short grey hair and a monocle, two official looking women who Harry assumed to be Aurors, a young man who was poised ready with parchment and quill and at the very end of the row, Lucius Malfoy, looking smug and relaxed.

"Have a seat, Mister Potter," Fudge called out, and Harry noticed that the Minister seemed to be far less welcoming than he had been last year when they had met. In fact, with the cold stare he was now receiving, Harry would go as far as to say that he was somewhat hated at this particular time. Pushing the thought out of his head, Harry looked to the chair he was obviously supposed to occupy.

"I think I'll stand," he drawled, imitating Malfoy's usual tone perfectly, and having to suppress a grin when he noticed Lucius's sneer at his actions. He did, however, move to the centre of the room.

"Very well," huffed the minister, "Madam Bones, if you would like to begin the interrogation."

"Thank you, Minister," the lady with the monocle stood, shuffling her papers into order as she did so. "It has come to our attention," here, she flicked her eyes towards Lucius Malfoy, a look of disgust flashing briefly across her face, "that you may be in contact with the escaped convict, Sirius Black. Is this true?" It was obvious by her demeanour that she expected nothing to come of this; she was clearly assuming that Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived, would have nothing to do with the man who betrayed his parents.

"Yup," Harry answered, allowing a small grin to grace his lips as he watched the reactions. Fudge jumped in his seat slightly, dislodging his bowler hat from where it was perched on his head, causing him to dive under the chairs to retrieve it. The two Aurors had matching looks of shock on their faces, though one of them also had her hair flicking through colours- purple, red, blue, black, before settling again on brown. Harry quirked an eyebrow at this, he would have to ask Sirius about that particular skill later on. Lucius Malfoy had smirked for a second, before confusion took over his satisfaction. Madam Bones surprised Harry, however, by merely raising her eyebrows before continuing with the questioning.

"I won't bother asking if you were aware of his status as a convicted murderer, as I very much doubt anyone could be living in the wizarding world and, after last year at least, not be aware of it. I will therefore ask you what, precisely, you are doing with him? And be warned that if we feel that you are answering untruthfully, we will be forced to use a truth serum on you. Please do not make us take such extreme measures."

"Oh, don't worry, I plan on telling the truth. Well, what have I been doing with him? Bit of an odd question, since you only thought I was in contact with him, but ok. In the last few days, I have been getting drunk with him, dying each other's hair, though we didn't get to the braiding- which Sirius was very disappointed with," here Harry paused for a second, wincing as his godfather kicked him in the shin, "I have also been eating a lot of bacon, and watching him break a lot of probably extremely valuable items," Harry finished with a grin, knowing that the people in front of him were probably very confused about how this meeting was going.

"I see," Madam Bones said slowly, finally giving in and allowing the confusion she felt to show on her face, "Do you have anything else to say on the matter before we arrest you?" Harry swallowed, knowing this was his one chance.

"Yeah, I do actually. I have here-" he rummaged in the pockets of his coat for a second, before triumphantly pulling out a sheet of folded parchment, "-a letter written to me from my mum and dad, just before they died. And though I am reluctant to allow you all to read such a personal letter, I feel that it will benefit my situation greatly," Harry cautiously stepped forward, holding the letter out to his interrogators. It was the Minister for Magic who snatched it from his fingers, the portly man's eyes growing comically wide as he read through the letter. Wordlessly, he passed it on to Madam Bones, who also read it in silence before automatically passing it down the line to the Auror who had changed her hair colour. She in turn read it and passed it to the second Auror, who was about to pass it on to Lucius Malfoy before Harry stopped her.

"Sorry," he said unconvincingly, "but as I already said, I am reluctant to allow people to read it, and as I have not yet seen any reason for Lucy here to even be present, I don't think we'll be allowing him access to my personal letters." Saying this, he stepped forward and pulled the letter from the Auror's hands, grinning at the glare he received from the man in question.

It was Fudge who snapped out of it first.

"This is preposterous!" he yelled, "Sirius Black, innocent? Utter rubbish! Why would he have been put in Azkaban if he was innocent, eh? Answer me that, boy!" Harry bristled at the use of the term 'boy', having had quite enough of that from Vernon.

"Because he was never given a trial, maybe? Because everyone assumed that he was guilty, because he came from a dark family? Because everyone was so goddamned happy that my parents were dead that they didn't pause to try and give the benefit of the doubt to their best friend? There's quite a few reasons, pick one!" Harry was shouting by the time he was finished, months of pent up frustration and anger coming out at last, the restless feeling in the back of his mind growing, until he was forced to begin pacing in front of the raised seats, his leather coat whipping around him.

"Happy? That your parents were dead? My dear boy, I think you are mistaken," said Madam Bones coldly, glaring at him in such a way that he knew she was unimpressed by his outburst.

"Then why did you all party, eh? I heard about that, you know. The entire night was spent celebrating the downfall of Voldemort, ignoring the price it cost," he spoke quieter now, but the anger was still obvious in his voice and the Aurors both began fingering their wands, in case things got out of hand. Before anyone could answer his questions, however, Lucius stood up, drawing the eyes of everyone in the small room.

"Interesting as this may be, it has no relevance to the question at hand. And whilst I did not read the letter, I have to doubt its validity. It would have been only too easy for Potter and Black to have forged it," he spoke smoothly and calmly, the exact opposite of how Harry was feeling.

"Although unlikely, this is true," Madam Bones said, adjusting her monocle, "Do you have any other evidence for your claim?" Harry stopped pacing and stared at her for a minute, trying to decide if this was worth risking his godfather's capture. He felt a hand on his shoulder and knew Sirius was beside him. If this worked, there would be no need for the invisibility cloak and Sirius would be able to stand tall and free. It was worth it.

"How would a statement from the man himself under your strongest truth serum be for evidence?" he asked casually, eyes fixed on Madam Bones and ignoring the reactions of the others present. Again, the stern faced woman raised her eyebrows, glancing around the room as if she would see Sirius Black hiding in a corner.

"That would be sufficient," she answered, "How soon can you send him a message to b-"

"You can't be serious!" interrupted Fudge. Harry heard a snigger from beside him and rolled his eyes; his godfather would never cease finding that particular joke funny. "You-"

"I am perfectly serious, Minister," Madam Bones cut him off, "Due to the evidence we have been presented, we have an obligation to investigate this. If it turns out to be lies, then we can easily arrest Black afterwards." Harry raised an eyebrow at this last, but let it go, knowing that arguing that particular point would not do him any favours. Throughout it all, Lucius Malfoy glared, unable to see a way in which this situation could still work to his advantage.

"If you fetch the truth serum right now, then we can begin immediately," Harry chimed in helpfully, fishing around in his pockets for a cigarette.

"I see," the Minister answered, looking annoyed as he motioned to one of the Auror's to go and fetch it. It was the woman who had changed her hair colour earlier, and she flashed Harry a grin as she passed him. Slightly confused, but grateful that at least one person in the room appeared to be on his side, he found his lighter and lit his cigarette, taking a deep drag. He had performed the spell to stop him from coughing the first night he had spent at Grimmauld Place, sharing his first ever cigarette with his godfather, who felt as though he were in heaven after not smoking for thirteen years.

It only took a few minutes for the Auror to return, but it was an awkward few minutes. Harry stood and smoked, attempting to ignore the glares from the officials before him. He got the feeling that they wanted to tell him to stop, but had no grounds for the request and so were forced to stay quiet. He could feel Sirius fidgeting next to him, and knew that his godfather was nervous, to say the least. Eventually the Auror came back, tripping slightly as she entered the room and only just managing to keep a hold of the vial in her hand. Blushing red, she rushed to the front of the room where she stood and awaited instructions.

"Where is he then, Mister Potter?" Fudge asked curtly, as though he wished nothing less than to get this meeting over with, "We haven't got all day."

"Ready Pads?" Harry muttered, receiving a squeeze on the shoulder as an answer, which he took for confirmation. "Right here, Minister," he called, just as Sirius pulled the cloak off, hiding it quickly behind his back. Fudge jumped back again, and the two Aurors drew their wands, training them on Sirius. The scribe paused in his scribbling to glance up and, eyes wide, immediately turned his gaze back towards his parchment. Lucius Malfoy sneered in disgust, glaring down at the man he considered a blood traitor. Only Madam Bones seemed unaffected, though she did surreptitiously finger her wand in her pocket.

"Auror Tonks, the serum if you will," she commanded, not taking her eyes off of the emaciated man before her. The Auror moved forward warily, holding out the dropper without saying a word. Sirius opened his mouth and allowed three drops to fall onto his tongue before he stepped back, slumping into the chair.

"Is your name Sirius Black?" Madam Bones questioned, her voice ringing around the small chamber.

"Yes," Sirius replied emotionlessly, slumped in his chair.

"And you were born in 1959, correct?"

"Yes."

"Were you James and Lily Potter's secret keeper?" It seemed for a second that the entire room was holding its breath, waiting for the answer. It didn't have to wait long, however, for within seconds Sirius voice rand across the room.

"No."

Fudge gasped, as did both Aurors, and everyone looked to Madam Bones to ask the final question they needed to be sure.

"Did you betray James and Lily Potter to Voldemort?" she asked, her voice uncharacteristically soft.

"No."


	8. Chapter 8

Disclaimer: Consider this unclaimed. 'Cept Ruby, Ruby is mine.

A/N: Wow, thanks to everyone who added this to their story alerts/ favourites. Much appreciated. And a special thank you to the one or two people who reviewed :)

Sorry if this fic seems a bit slow, but I want to have some fun before we get into the whole "Voldemort's trying to kill me blah blah cry cry angst poof oh he's gone" part of the story. Not that I don't like that part, but this part is easier and funner to write :D

Anyway, enjoy!

* * *

There were neither clamouring reporters nor over eager photographers vying for attention as Harry and Sirius walked through the Atrium, heading for the floo. No crowds of people, shouting for answers. No aurors trying to arrest who they thought to be a mass murderer. A few people turned for a second glance before shaking their heads, convinced that they were seeing things, but this was all the attention the pair attracted.

"You know, I'm starting to think we needn't have bothered with the invisibility cloak on the way in, Pads," Harry said, looking around in wonder.

"I know exactly what you mean, mate. It's a good job I'm really innocent, or I could probably slaughter them all without anyone blinking an eye. It's fucking ridiculous," Sirius answered darkly.

"Keep talking about slaughter in that tone of voice and we might attract some attention after all," Harry laughed, turning to face his godfather as they reached the floo.

"Yeah, well, if it'd keep 'em on their toes, it might be worth it," Sirius said, frowning, "they've got no chance if Voldy comes back, if they can't even notice a convicted murderer wandering around in their midst."

"You're not convicted anymore though, remember? This is meant to be a happy time!" Harry exclaimed, fed up of his godfather's brooding.

"Alright, alright, I was just commenting on the shit security, no need to get your knickers in a twist, sunshine." Harry laughed at this, punching Sirius lightly on the arm.

"Where are we off to, then?" he asked, gesturing towards the floo.

"I wanna go out!" Sirius exclaimed excitedly, his mood changing swiftly as he started bouncing slightly on the balls of his feet.

"Umm... no offense, Pads, but I think you need a shower first," Harry said, smirking, "The Azkaban smell just doesn't fit when you now you're free."

"Hmph," Sirius pouted, "But then can we go out?"

"Sure," Harry answered, grabbing some floo powder from the pot above the fireplace.

"Grimmauld Place!" he shouted before being whisked away, followed seconds later by his godfather.

* * *

"Pads?" Harry started as they walked down a back alley towards their destination. It was the type of alley that most would be terrified to step foot in, all flickering streetlights and overflowing rubbish bins. Laughter and shouts echoed from further ahead and occasional shadowy figures barged past them as they walked, throwing insults at their backs.

"Yeah, pup?" Sirius answered, a happy smirk firmly fixed on his almost unrecognisable face. As soon as they had reached Grimmauld Place, they had found an owl waiting for them from the ministry. It carried a letter with his official pardon along with a package containing not only his old wand, but also several potions. There were strengthening potions, nourishment potions and even one to help with any post-Azkaban depression, which Sirius declined stating that it would 'take more than 13 years in Azkaban to make me depressed'. As a result, after his shower, Harry had the pleasure of seeing his godfather looking healthy, happy and handsome. A rummage through the clothes James had left Harry later and he was looking almost exactly like his old self again, albeit with a couple more wrinkles.

"You do realise I'm only thirteen, right?" Harry asked, stopping himself from flicking his wand into his hand as another stranger barged past him.

"Huh. Really? Yeah, I guess that makes sense. You look a lot older, you know?" Sirius answered, glancing over to inspect his godson. He was proud, he admitted to himself, as he saw who that tiny, messy haired baby had turned into. When he had met Harry earlier in the year, he would never had guessed that this was the man underneath, but after the last few days he knew that it was the real Harry; strong, independent, loyal. Actually, to say he was proud would be an understatement, as it was nothing short of a miracle, when one took into account the boy's upbringing. Dursley's, indeed. Bloody Dumbledore.

"Yeah, my point is that wherever we're going probably doesn't let underage kids in," Harry explained, cutting into his godfather's inner monologue. Sirius stopped, frowning for a second before his inner light bulb lit up. He pulled out his wand, smiling fondly down at it, before waving it in a complicated fashion. A small rectangle of card with Harry's face on it appeared in Sirius's hand.

"Huh," Harry said, taking the ID, "That was strangely easy." Sirius shook his head, laughing at the way his godson was still amazed by magic. How long had the boy been in the magical world? And yet he was still surprised by a bit of conjuring. Throwing an arm around the boy's shoulders Sirius led him to the end of the alley where they were met with a door and a bouncer and the echoes of music from inside the building.

"ID," the enormous man grunted, looking pointedly at Harry and ignoring Sirius. Harry handed it over, tapping his foot impatiently, wanting to get inside. The bouncer glanced at it, looked up at Harry then looked back at the ID. "Go on, then," he huffed, thrusting the card back at its owner and stepping aside to allow them to enter.

The bar was dark, loud and crowded. Old posters and flyers lined the walls and a band was playing vicious rock music on a make shift stage at one end. The patrons were mostly tattooed, outlandish and drunk as they danced, fought and laughed. It was a dive, but it was brilliant, Harry thought as he took a seat at the bar.

"Two whiskeys, love" Sirius told the barmaid with a wink, sitting down next to his godson, "Get ready for a long night, pup." They both grinned and downed their drinks, Harry grimacing at the burn. The barmaid dutifully poured them another drink each and they settled in. Sirius was right, Harry thought idly, it was going to be a long night.

* * *

The hippogriffs were rampaging around Harry's head again when he awoke the next afternoon, and he wondered if he would ever manage to get used to the feeling of a hangover. Or, better yet, find a way to avoid them completely. Besides not drinking, of course, because that would be ludicrous. Grumbling to himself about bloody godfathers and bloody whiskey, he rolled over, only to fall with a loud _thump _onto the floor. He opened his eyes, or at least, opened one of them. Gingerly, he felt the area around his right eye, wincing at the pain as he touched the bruised, swollen flesh. When had that happened, he wondered, pulling himself off the floor. He was in the living room, it appeared, and had just fallen off of one of the dirty couches where he must have slept. Groggily, he staggered out of the room and down the stairs, heading towards the kitchen and, he hoped, food.

"Good morning, pup!" Sirius's voice rang out loud and cheerful as Harry entered the large kitchen, "Ooh, nasty looking eye, mate," he said when he had gotten a good look at his godson.

"Jesus, have you never heard of your indoor voice?" Harry asked teasingly as he sat down at the table across from a heavily tattooed, yet extremely pretty blonde girl. He lay his head down on the table, groaning slightly at the pain in it before looking up again, confused. "Wait, who are you?" he asked, belatedly realising that she didn't live with them.

"I've been wondering that too, mate, but I thought it rude to ask seeing as I woke up next to her," Sirius said, grinning and winking at the blonde who rolled her eyes good naturedly, "So, who are you, love? And was it good for you?" he tossed in with a sly wink, causing Harry to groan in disgust and the girl in question to laugh.

"Considering I'll be gone in, ooh, about ten minutes, I doubt it really matters much who I am, but what the hell, I'm Ruby," she said, smiling at them both. Her voice was low with that husky edge to it that only smokers seemed to develop.

"Wait, you were the barmaid, right?" Harry asked, frowning in his efforts to remember the night before.

"Yup, I work there most evenings," Ruby replied, stifling a yawn. Harry and Sirius both nodded absently, Sirius going back to cooking the breakfast and Harry going back to sleeping on the table. A loud hoot dragged them out of their occupations, however, and they looked around to find a large eagle owl sitting on the windowsill and glaring around the room.

"Why do owls always have to glare?" Sirius muttered, grabbing the letter from its leg and shooing it back out the window.

"Who's it from, Pads?" Harry asked, wondering if the ministry could have changed their mind about setting his godfather free.

"Dumbledore. Wants us to go up to the school later today. Guess he knows you're living with me then," Sirius replied, still reading the end of the letter. Harry nodded once before setting his head back down on the table. He didn't much care what they did later that day as long as it was just that- _later. _

"Umm, guys?" Ruby asked and they both looked around in surprise, having forgotten she was there, "did you just get post from an _owl?" _


	9. Chapter 9

Disclaimer: Yadda yadda, not mine, yadda.

A/N: So, I don't think this is a very good chapter. But I tried rewriting it and it only made it worse :) SO I posted what I wrote first time, and I promise to have a better one up next time.

Also, sorry about the inconsistent updates, but I'm back at college now so I'm having to fit my writing in around my art. But it's working so far, I might just be a tiny bit slower than I was.

Enjoy!

* * *

Harry hovered outside the window, waiting for Dumbledore to turn around and see him.

"Just knock already, what're you waiting for?" Sirius asked, flying up behind him.

"I was waiting for you, actually, old man," Harry teased, having arrived at the school ten minutes before his godfather.

"Yeah, well, you have a better broom. If I had a firebolt I'd wipe the floor with your skinny ass," Sirius retorted, stung by the 'old man' comment. He had wasted half his life in Azkaban and wasn't used to thinking of himself as old. In his heart, he was still the young twenty- something he had been before James and Lily had died and he didn't see himself maturing anytime soon.

"Oh, yeah, blame it on the broom, Pads," Harry said, grinning. Neither noticed Dumbledore opening the window to his office, having finally noticed that they were outside it.

"And what's that meant to mean, eh pup?" Sirius asked, annoyed. No way was Harry better than him on a broom, he thought, he was just out of practise, that's all.

"Before you continue this entertaining discussion, would you like to step into my office?" Dumbledore said with a twinkle of amusement in his eye.

"Jesus, Professor!" Harry exclaimed, having almost fallen off his broom, "You do know it's not a good idea to make guys jump when they're really high off the ground?" He finished with a grin and a wink, before skilfully manoeuvring his broom through the small window. He wasn't so skilful at landing in the office, however, and ended up on the floor, having narrowly missed knocking over a small table on his way down. Sirius followed behind him, though he made a far better landing than his godson had and he knew it too, as he smugly offered his hand out to help Harry up.

"I'm still a better flier than you," Harry grumbled, half- joking. Dumbledore chuckled at the continued banter, enjoying seeing his student look so happy. He gestured them into the two comfy chairs in front of his desk, whilst he himself took the high backed one behind it.

"Tea? Lemon drops?" he asked, expecting the standard answer of 'no'. Why nobody would try the candy was a mystery to him; even the muggleborns who knew what it was shunned it as though he had spiked it with some kind of potion.

"Both, thanks, Albus," Sirius answered, Harry nodding his agreement. Dumbledore's face split into an enormous grin and he soon set about providing them with refreshments before taking his seat again and getting down to business.

"Now, boys," he began, looking at the pair over the top of steepled fingers, "I must ask for the story as to how this all came about. I confess that the last I knew of it was that Harry was living with the Dursley's, and you, Sirius were on the run with Buckbeak."

"Well, you see, it happened like this," and so Sirius began to tell the whole story, omitting a few drunken fights (though Dumbledore still eyed Harry's black eye suspiciously), with Harry putting his two cents in occasionally to tell his side of the story.

"I see," Dumbledore said when they were finished, fixing them both with a piercing stare. Sirius had forgotten what it felt like to be under that stare, and couldn't help but be transported back to his school days. Harry shifted uncomfortably, knowing that whilst Dumbledore didn't always tell him everything he wanted to know, he was still looking out for Harry's best interests, and Harry didn't want to disappoint him. Too much, anyway. A little might keep him on his toes, he thought idly.

"Well, Hagrid at least will be pleased to know that Buckbeak is free and happy," the old man said finally, smiling at them both. He did not much approve of the way that Sirius was teaching Harry to live his life but... they both seemed so _happy. _Dumbledore couldn't remember the last time he saw either of them with a genuine smile on their face, and yet neither had stopped since they entered the room. How could he deny them that? And so he swallowed his doubts and let it go.

"So... can we stay for dinner?" Sirius asked, an enormous smile forming on his face as Harry burst out laughing.

* * *

"C'mon, pup, you must want something!" Sirius wheedled, looking up at his godson with his best puppy dog eyes.

"Really, Pads, there's nothing you can buy me that I want! Besides you already got me the firebolt last year, I think that counts for the next ten years worth of presents," Harry replied, idly twirling his wand between his fingers and ignoring the looks his godfather was sending his way. They were in the living room again, though it was a lot cleaner than the last time they had been in it. The windows were sparkling, allowing actual sunlight through them, and the couches which were previously dust-infested were now immaculate. Anything dark or dangerous, be it creature or trinket, had been removed, all with the help of-

"Dobby!" Sirius called, carrying on speaking as soon as the elf had cracked into the room, "what can I get Harry for his birthday?" To his surprise, Dobby's enormous eyes lit up in excitement, and he bounced up and down on his toes.

"Dobby knows just the thing, sir! Come with Dobby and we will get it at once!" he squeaked out, pulling on Sirius's hand.

"Okay, Dobby. Harry, I'm going out," he said, a bemused expression on his face. Harry grinned back, shaking his head at the antics of his new house elf. They hadn't been able to coerce Kreacher into actually cleaning, so they had been forced to think of other options. Luckily, after only about 6 hours of thought, Harry had the perfect idea and hired Dobby. The elf got 10 galleons a month, a clothes allowance for his uniform and paid sick leave. And that was after the elf had brought it down.

"Goodbye Mr Harry Potter, sir!" Dobby squeaked before disappearing with a crack, taking Harry's godfather with him. Harry grinned, leaning back in his chair and lit a cigarette. He took a deep drag and chuckled to himself as he wondered what his birthday present would be. He wandered over to the window, thinking that he would see if they brought anything big into the house. But instead, he was faced with a very strange sight.

Down in the street, a tall, lanky blonde boy was yelling and gesturing wildly towards the house whilst a shorter, stockier boy with dark skin and dark hair listened patiently. Both were dressed in muggle clothing, though any chance of them blending in was ruined by the cloaks draped around their shoulders.

Harry ran down to the front door, taking the stairs three at a time in his rush. He stood for a second to collect himself, before wrenching open the door and walking down the garden, stopping when he was just out of range of the fidelius.

"Houses don't just up and disappear, you know!" the blonde was yelling, completely oblivious of Harry's presence. The other boy, however, had his gaze fixed on Harry the moment he appeared, though he was silent, waiting for the Gryffindor to make the first move.

"And _what_, precisely, has brought you two here?" Harry drawled, leaning casually back on the garden fence. Draco paused mid-word, turning silently and staring in shock at Harry for a second before recovering himself.

"We have more reason to be here than you, _Potter," _he sneered, curling his lip as he took in Harry's appearance. The baggy, worn out white vest and ripped jeans were ridiculous in his opinion, and he wasn't even wearing shoes! He looked as though he had just rolled out of the gutter, and this was the most famous boy in the wizarding world?

"Actually, you really don't. See, I live here, you don't," Harry replied, smiling slightly at the ferret's obvious reaction to his clothes, "So if you could be so kind as to fuck off, it would be greatly appreciated." Blaise raised an eyebrow at the language, but otherwise hadn't moved since Harry had arrived, simply standing and listening, taking note of things the two arguing boys were oblivious to.

"Fuck you, Potter! You and your mangy, flea bitten godfather!" Malfoy bit back.

"Well," Harry began, looking thoughtful, "I can't really speak for Siri, but I have to say that I really have no intention to fuck you any time soon, so I'm going to have to decline your offer, I'm afraid." Malfoy's eyes near on bugged out of his head and his jaw visibly dropped at Harry's words. _No-one _had ever spoken to him so... crudely. He opened his mouth to retaliate, but Blaise nudged him slightly and he closed it again. Potter wasn't worth it. He turned around with a swirl of his cloak that even Snape would be proud of and stormed off down the road. Blaise paused for a second, looking thoughtfully at Harry.

"In the attic, there's some stuff of ours. I'd appreciate it if you could send it to us," he said neutrally. Then, without waiting for an answer, he too turned and strode off down the road, leaving Harry standing by the fence.


	10. Chapter 10

Disclaimer: Nope, not mine.

A/N: As usual, thanks to everyone who read, reviewed, favourited and story alerted.

Enjoy!

* * *

"SURPRISE!" Dozens of voices shouted as Harry walked into the kitchen the morning of his birthday. He blinked around and on seeing who it was, he sheathed his wand before anyone saw it in his hand and ready for a fight.

The kitchen was a sea of red hair, interspersed with the odd head of black or brown. Every single face was grinning at him and he managed to find the energy to grin back (it was early in the morning, after all, and he was a teenage boy- they don't _do _mornings) as he processed what was happening.

"A... surprise party? For... me?" he asked, somewhat hesitantly, searching through the faces and cataloguing who was there. In the front were Hermione and Ron, along with Sirius and Remus. Behind them was the rest of the Weasley's, including Bill and Charlie who must have had time off work to come. Hagrid was crouching at the back, though he still managed to be a head taller than anyone else. Off to one side was Neville, smiling shyly and a short, young blue-haired woman was standing just behind him with an older woman who must be her mother. Harry wondered at their presence, but wasn't given time to dwell on it as he was instantly surrounded by friends and family.

"Of course for you, who else'd it be for?" Ron was saying whilst clapping him firmly on the back, Hermione had thrown herself forward to claim the first hug, but Harry was quickly passed around the group, all of them wanting to greet him personally and instantly. The two women he didn't know stayed off to one side though, evidently waiting to be introduced. After about quarter of an hour of hugs and greetings and various exclamations of 'What do you look like!' (most of which came from Mrs Weasley), Sirius took pity on his godson.

"All right, you lot, give the boy some space," he called, pushing his way through to Harry. He stood in front of his best friend's son for a minute, before grinning and hugging him tightly, "Happy Birthday, pup," he whispered into Harry's hair and let him go.

"You organised all this, Pads?" Harry asked, feeling slightly teary.

"Well, me and Dobby," Sirius answered and Harry looked around to see that Dobby was working at the stove, cooking enough eggs and bacon to feed a small army. The messy haired teen wound his way through the people cluttering the kitchen to reach the house elf.

"Breakfast will be ready in just a moment, Harry Potter, sir!" the tiny elf squeaked, only to be ignored and swept up into a bone crushing hug by his hero. Tears fell from Dobby's eyes as he was set down, and he looked up at Harry questioningly.

"Thank you Dobby, for everything," Harry said simply, reaching over to flip one of eggs before it burned, "Breakfast's done, guys!" he called over his shoulder and Dobby snapped into action, levitating the food onto plates which were then floated over to the table. All the Weasley men, along with Sirius, instantly scrambled for a seat, with the rest of the guests following more sedately.

The conversation was rowdy and plentiful as they dug into their food. Topics ranged from the upcoming Quidditch world cup ("Ireland have got no chance against Krum, are you mental?") to the latest proposed laws against werewolves. Harry somehow ended up sitting between Ron, who seemed to have grown at least a few inches since Harry had last seen him and the blue-haired woman, who was introduced as Tonks ("_not _Nymphadora") and turned out, along with her mother, Andromeda, to be a relative of Sirius's and a distant relative of Harry's. Mrs Weasley and Bill sat opposite them, and spent much of the meal arguing, as usual, over the length of Bill's hair and the suitability of his earring.

"You're setting a bad example for your brothers, and Harry as well," she chastised. Bill rolled his eyes and grinned across the table to Harry, Ron and Tonks.

"Mum, have you looked around this table? We've got Sirius looking like an older Sid Vicious, Tonks has got blue hair, for Christ's sake, and Harry himself ain't looking too posh these days. So yeah, with Sirius around I don't think it'll matter to Harry's wellbeing if he has another bad example around, and the rest of your sons are bad enough examples to themselves," Bill laughed, casting a rueful glance at his brothers, who tried their hardest to look suitably innocent. Molly glared at him, but he carried on eating, unfazed, so she dropped the subject, choosing to quiz Harry on his summer instead. He answered politely but vaguely, passing over questions such as 'where did you get that cut on your forehead?' (a memento from Ruby's pub a few nights back), and instead steering her more towards his joy over Sirius's pardon and his escape from the Dursley's, which everyone was relieved about.

It was an hour later when everyone had eaten their fill that Sirius stood up and knocked his fork against his glass.

"Speech!" the cry came from the twins. Sirius was only too happy to oblige.

"As you all know, we are here to celebrate the birth of young Mr Harry Potter here. I'm sure most of you are wondering why the party started before we'd even had breakfast, but there is a simple explanation that I will now divulge. I've only been able to celebrate one other birthday with my godson and that was thirteen years ago. As I understand it, his birthdays since then have been pretty damn shit. So, to make up for it, I have gathered you all here today as Harry's friends and family, and Harry's friends and family to be," here he paused to nod and smile and his cousin and her daughter, "for the party to end all parties!" A cheer rose up from the younger members of the congregation, as the elder ones tried with varying degrees of success to look disapproving. None could stop a smile at the thought of Harry's happiness, not even Mrs Weasley, who knew what kind of mischief her sons could get up to at a party, not least one hosted by the notorious Sirius Black.

Dobby (who had been seated at the table by Harry with a plate of food and instructions to feel free to join in any conversations he wished to) spoke up suddenly, his squeaky voice rising above the din.

"But first, Harry Potter, sir, you has presents to open!"

* * *

Harry had never received so many presents in his life. Ron and Ginny had bought him an enormous box of sweets between them, including all of his favourites. Fred and George had also given him sweets, but a note inside their box had informed him that they weren't for _him _to eat, if he knew what they were saying. Harry resolved to take their advice and planned to test the sweets out on Sirius as soon as he could. Percy had bought him a book on careers in Quidditch, which was thoughtful if a bit dull, while Bill and Charlie had clubbed together to buy him a pair of black dragon skin boots. Molly and Arthur had given him a giant box of fudge ("because you need fattening up, I've always said so") and a hand knitted hat and scarf in green ("I know it's not your house colours, but green goes so wonderfully with your eyes, dear"). Hagrid handed him a homemade chocolate cake, much like the one Harry had received when they had first met. Hagrid had also brought along a gift from Professor Dumbledore, which turned out to be socks in all different colours of the rainbow. Harry had grinned at this, remembering what the headmaster had seen in the Mirror of Erised in his first year. Tonks had bought him a Weird Sisters shirt, and had seemed offended when he didn't even know who the band was ("But they're the greatest band in the wizarding world! You just stopped being cool in my eyes!"). Her mother, Andromeda had been more traditional in her gift, giving Harry a long, expensive looking, grey cloak with a silver clasp in the shape of a panther. Hermione had gifted him with a set of defence against the dark arts books, and Neville had given him a framed copy of a photo of their parents together. Tears had threatened to fall as Harry thought of the fates of the two happy couples looking back up at him, but he held them back, choosing instead to grab Neville into a hug, hoping it conveyed all of his gratitude for the gift. Dobby had given his present next, which turned out to be a pair of socks, one red with a repeated pattern of Harry's face knitted over it and the other blue with little golden snitches covering it. The last present had been from Sirius and Remus combined, and had been tickets to see the upcoming Quidditch World Cup.

The day was spent in the living room, talking and laughing and playing games and surreptitiously feeding Sirius the sweets from Fred and George. Luckily Molly had been out of the room when the ton- tongue toffee took effect, else the Weasley twins would surely have been heading home with his parents when they left in the late afternoon. Hagrid and Andromeda were the only others who left at the same time, though Harry and Sirius were hard- pressed to convince Molly to allow her only daughter to stay. It had taken Tonks promising to look after to finally swing the over protective mother's opinion.

And so it was that Percy found himself to be the most mature person left in the house. He had had high hopes for Remus but, it turned out, spending time with Sirius caused the ex-professor to revert back to his teenage years, and so no help was coming to Percy from him.

"Kitchen!" Sirius announced suddenly, dragging the people nearest to him to their feet and leading the group down stairs. There were various groans as the rest of the crowd hauled themselves up from where they had been lounging on sofas or the floor and trouped downstairs. Harry was at the back of the crowd, and by the time he managed to make his way into the kitchen his godfather had already begun setting everything up. Thirteen shot glasses now sat on the table along with two bottles of firewhiskey. Harry grinned as he took a seat with everyone else, knowing that this would be some of his friend's first time drinking the stuff.

"Are you sure this is a good idea?" Hermione asked, sporting a small frown at the thought of breaking the rules.

"Of course it is, 'Mione, trust me, you'll love the stuff," Harry said, his eyes twinkling like mad.

"Where's that Gryffindor spirit, eh?" Bill asked, shooting a charming grin down the table at his youngest brother's best friend. Hermione glared back, taking it as a challenge and resolving to out drink at least one of the boys.

"What's it to be then, boys and girls?" Sirius asked from the head of the table.

"Truth or dare!" called one of the Weasley twins.

"Nah, Dobby'll get pissed if we trash the house doing dares," Harry said, winking at the house elf in question who sat between Tonks and Charlie with a shot glass in front of him.

"Never have I ever?" Bill asked.

"Sounds good to me," Remus answered, and everyone else nodded and agreed bar Percy who was eyeing his glass with distaste.

"Okay, then, it's your birthday pup, so you can start!" Sirius announced cheerfully, passing the fire whiskey around the table.

"Never have I ever..."

* * *

"Never have I ever," Hermione slurred, swaying slightly in her seat, "kissed a teacher!" she announced happily. It was the early hours of the morning and everyone was well and truly drunk. Dobby had fallen asleep in his chair an hour ago and Ron had passed out on the table. The rest were still going more or less strong though, and even Percy was having a good time. Following Hermione's statement, Sirius happily downed his shot, as did Bill to everyone's shock.

"Woah, mate, which teachers have you been kissing?" Fred asked, only it came out more like: "whish teakers've yoo bin kishing?" It was a testament to just how drunk they all were that everyone understood him.

"A gentleman never tells!" Bill announced pompously, "Who'd you kiss, Siri?"

"Ahhh, Sinistra, of course," Sirius said proudly, ignoring the outbreak of laughing that followed.

"Come on, Bill, it can't be worse than Sinistra," Harry called, grinning at the mock hurt look that Sirius put on.

"Trust me, it is," Bill groaned, knowing that they wouldn't let it drop until they knew. Sure enough...

"Tell us! Tell us! Tell us!" the twins and Ginny started chanting, banging their fists on the table in what was obviously supposed to be a rhythm.

"Fiiiine," Bill whined, "it was Snape." Silence followed, broken only by Remus and Tonks's giggling. Everyone else, it seemed was too drunk to really comprehend what it was that Bill had just admitted to. Luckily, Neville decided that it was best for his mental health if he didn't hear that story and broke the silence.

"Never have I ever... kissed a boy!" he announced, a pleased look on his face that he had successfully managed to divert the group's attention. Some things just didn't bare thinking of. Bill downed another shot, as did Tonks, Hermione, Ginny, Remus, Fred and Harry.

"Oh, shit!" Sirius exclaimed, "I'd forgotten about that, Remus! I guess you and Bill have something in common, then."


	11. Chapter 11

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter.

A/N: Sorry about the length of time it's taken for me to get this out, I've been ridiculously busy lately between college and work and the other dozen things that have been monopolating my time.

Thanks for all reviewers/favers/story alerters so far, and I hope you enjoy the new chapter :)

* * *

"Avada Kedavra!"

Harry shot up in bed, panting as he awoke from the dream. At least, he hoped it was a dream. His scar was throbbing painfully and his entire body was slick with sweat. The old man's face lingered in his mind along with the high, cold voice. He shook his head slightly, trying to clear such images from his mind and peered around his room, looking for anything to distract himself with.

The room was still dark, lit only by the strange orange glow caused by a streetlamp on the muggle street outside. A chair covered in crumpled clothes stood in one corner with his school trunk lying open next to it. His firebolt was propped against the window frame and on the windowsill itself lay his bottomless backpack along with the photo of his and Neville's parents who were looking worriedly at him at the minute.

Sighing, he swung his legs over the side of the bed, knowing that there was no way he'd be able to get back to sleep now. He grabbed his glasses and wand from the floor next to his bed and pushed his glasses onto his nose with one hand whilst casting a tempus with the other. Three in the morning; he'd only managed two hours of sleep.

"Coffee," he muttered to himself, running a hand through his hair. His descent to the kitchen was slow, as he crept down the stairs, constantly casting his eyes about suspiciously as if he were expecting Voldemort to jump out at him at any minute. Much to his relief, he made it down the three flights of stairs to the kitchen unharmed. Once in the kitchen, he busied himself with making a cup of strong, black coffee, delaying the moment that he'd inevitably have to think back on the dream.

And so he didn't notice that Sirius was lounged in a chair, his feet on the table and a book open in his hands, staring at his godson curiously.

"What's up, pup?" he asked.

"Shit!" Harry spun round, knocking his mug of coffee off the sideboard in the process, his wand snapping into his hand a second later. Sirius raised an eyebrow at the display.

"Umm... On edge a bit, are we?" Harry breathed a sigh of relief, stowing his wand back in its holster after vanishing the remains of his first cup of coffee. He turned his back on his godfather and quickly made another cup before taking a seat at the table.

"Couldn't sleep," he said, as though that explained everything.

"I see. And that made you this jumpy, eh? You're a shit liar, pup. Your father was the same," Sirius told him, taking his feet down off the table and leaning forward. "What was it? Bad dreams or something?" Harry blanched slightly and Sirius knew that he'd hit the mark even before his godson spoke.

"Yeah, I guess," Harry said, running a hand through his hair tiredly.

"Gonna tell me about it then? Or was it about Snape and Bill? Cos if it was, then you _really_ don't need to tell me about it," Sirius shuddered at the thought and Harry managed a small chuckle.

"It was about Voldemort. He's getting stronger. He was talking to Wormtail about a plan, something to do with waiting until the Quidditch cup is over. He said something about someone called Bertha, I think she disappeared. They mentioned a faithful servant, Wormtail, the coward, seemed to be trying to back out of something. Then he killed a muggle, and I woke up with my scar hurting," Harry said, hesitantly. He knew he was leaving the most important point out, but he was reluctant to voice it, as though speaking it aloud would make it real instead of it merely being a dream. He wanted more than anything for it to just be a dream. Sirius was silent for a minute before speaking.

"We have to tell Dumbledore. Now," he said, forcefully, already on his feet and heading to the floo.

"What? But... but it was just a dream, right?" Harry asked, hoping he was right, but knowing he wasn't. It was at that moment that Sirius realised that his godson was still just a boy. He had gotten so carried away celebrating their reunion and his freedom that he somehow forgotten. Yes, the boy could drink like a pro and act the part of a man, but that didn't change the facts. He was a boy and he needed looking after. Oh, he needed to party as well, but Sirius would protect him.

"I don't know," Sirius said softly, "but I doubt it. I'm sorry, but I have to be honest and I think it happened." Turning his back on his godson, he knelt in the fireplace and stuck his head through to Dumbledore's office.

* * *

"Thank you for coming, both of you. You were right, Sirius, it's best we hear about this as soon as possible," Dumbledore turned to Harry, gazing at the young boy steadily from behind his half- moon glasses. The headmaster was in his pyjamas, having been woken by the floo call. They were pink and covered in gold moons, and Harry was having a hard time trying not to stare at them.

"Uhh, yeah," he said, finally ripping his eyes away from the garish outfit, "I guess you want to know what, umm, happened then?" He took a deep breath and recounted everything he had earlier told Sirius, pausing at the end, trying to decide whether or not to tell them the most worrying part.

"They were after me!" he blurted out, before burying his head in his hands. There was silence for the length of a heartbeat before:

"What?" Sirius yelled, jumping out of his seat, "you didn't tell me that!"

"Well I didn't want to fucking worry you, okay? I was still hoping that the whole bloody thing was just a figment of my imagination, and saying that imaginary people were after me sounded kinda fucking ridiculous," Harry retorted, hands clenching into fists. He was the one with murderers after him, so why did Sirius get to be the one freaking out?

"Christ, Harry, I'm your godfather, I'm meant to worry about you! This is exactly the kind of thing you're meant to fucking tell me!" Sirius snapped, oblivious to Harry's anger.

"Why?" Harry asked, standing up, "No-one ever tells me anything, so why the fuck should I tell you?"

"Because-"

"Gentlemen, please, sit down," Dumbledore intoned. He had been sitting so calmly and quietly behind his desk that the two men had forgotten his presence entirely. Though they were both fuming, they obeyed him, trusting the old wizard explicitly.

"Now, I understand that you are scared, Sirius, but yelling at Harry will not help things. And Harry, I know you are feeling frustrated, but we will try our hardest to give you the answers you need," he said soothingly, smiling when they both visibly calmed down.

"Okay, so what... what does this all mean?" Harry asked.

"I believe the dream was actually an insight into what Voldemort is doing at this very moment," Dumbledore only hesitated for a second before explaining, knowing that if he allowed himself to, he would come up with a million excuses as to why he shouldn't tell the poor boy in front of him. But he had offered answers, and so answers he must give, "You are linked to him by the killing curse that failed and it seems that as he is getting stronger, the link is growing stronger too, allowing you to see glimpses of his life, to see through his eyes."

"So... all that actually happened? He's really after me? And that woman... Bertha, what happened to her?"

"I'm afraid Bertha went missing when she was on holiday in Albania. With the evidence from your vision, I think we can safely assume that Voldemort was responsible for her disappearance," Dumbledore's tone was grave and the customary twinkle in his eyes was gone as he thought back to how many good people had been lost to his ex-student.

"Now, Harry, we have many things to discuss. We shall need to increase security around not only the school but around Grimmauld Place also. And I wonder if you have ever heard of a type of magic called occlumency?"


	12. Chapter 12

Disclaimer: Nope, not mine.

A/N: Okay, so this chapter was originally meant to be longer, but an interesting point came up in one of the reviews and I thought I'd better put this out now, otherwise I'd forget to address it.

One reviewer basically asked me if Harry was going to be gay. I already hinted in one of my earlier chapters that a boy thought he was hot, so yes, Mr. Reviewer, your assumption on that was correct. And to answer your other question then yes, although I have not decided if he'll be gay yet, or bisexual, there will be an element of that in my story. It won't be the main focus, just as relationships aren't the main focus in the actual books, but yes, it will be there (although it won't be there in a graphic way).

I suppose I should have mentioned this earlier, so that people could know what they were getting in for, so I'm sorry if this offends anyone or whatnot. But it honestly didn't even occur to me. I have a very... whatever approach to sexuality, I suppose. You can be whatever you like, so long as you're a good person, it's fine by me. But I understand that some people don't, so I'm sorry for not mentioning sooner.

But as to why it's happening in my story when it didn't happen in canon, I just figure that in my story at the minute he's already a lot freer with both his speech, his dress, his actions than he is in canon. Now this may be the punk 'I'll do what I like' attitude, or it may be that regaining some form of family has boosted his confidence. But I figure that with this new attitude comes a greater interest in experimenting, as a lot of teenagers do. So yeah, that's my excuse, anyway haha.

OK, so rant over, sorry about that. As always, thank you to everyone who read/reviewed/favourited/story alerted, and if you want your reviews answered then you'll need to either sign in or leave an e-mail address, because I refuse to answer reviews in my chapters. Even though I just did. But I won't make a habit of it :P

Enjoy!

* * *

"Harry!" half a dozen voices yelled as the boy in question tumbled out of the fireplace and landed on the Weasley's kitchen floor.

"Hey guys," Harry said, hauling himself up from the floor and attempting to brush some of the soot from his clothes.

"Harry, dear!" Mrs Weasley came bustling into the room, having heard the commotion, and immediately grabbed him into one of her patented bone crushing hugs. When he was released, he finally managed to look around the room he was in. It was just as full of clutter and strange, magical items as usual, and he found a strange sense of calm settle over him as he took in the sight. If Hogwarts was his first home, then The Burrow was definitely his second, and it was brilliant to be back. Just then, however, Sirius came strolling out of the fire and Harry's sense of calm dissipated.

"How come you can do that so calmly, Pads?" he asked, pouting slightly at his inability to travel by floo and retain his dignity.

"It just comes naturally, you know?" his godfather replied with a wink and a grin, "And hello, Weasley's! Molly, cheers for having us to stay the night, it's a real help, we don't want the ministry knowing where we live now, do we?" Molly smiled indulgently, ever since Sirius had 'rescued' Harry from the Dursley's, she had had somewhat of a soft spot for the ex-convict. Sirius was sure that it would be forgotten if she ever found out a) where he'd taken her precious Harry this summer, b) all the fights they had both gotten into together, c) some of the swear words he'd taught him and d) some of the spells and pranks he had shown his godson. So, he was making the most of it while it lasted.

"Oh, now, you know it's no bother," Molly replied, waving it off, "besides, it gives me a good excuse to feed my two favourite boys up!" Her sons all turned to her, incredulous.

"Oh, sure-" Fred started.

"Just because we're not orphans-" George continued.

"Or Boys-Who-Lived-"

"Or dark wizard defeaters-"

"And just because we haven't spent half our lives in prison after being-"

"Wrongly accused-"

"And betrayed-"

"Apparently our mother doesn't-"

"Love us anymore!" they finished together, both sporting identical expressions of mock anger and hurt. The kitchen was silent for a heartbeat, before Molly spoke.

"Oh, shut up, boys." Sirius and Harry took one look at the twins before bursting out laughing. And that, I'm glad to say, rather set the tone for the rest of the evening.

* * *

It was a happy and full up Harry that slumped into a make-shift bed in Ron's room that night. The evening had been packed full of food and laughter and family, and Harry lay in bed for a while, in awe at how rich the Weasley's really were. Yes, so they didn't have much money, but they had each other and that was worth so much more than galleons. He had Sirius now, and he loved his godfather, but he wasn't a parent figure like Mr and Mrs Weasley were. Sirius was more of an older brother who was determined to be a bad influence, which was a complete contrast to Molly's worrying and Arthur's quiet advice and concern. Oh, he was sure that he would hate the lack of freedom and privacy if he lived at the Burrow full time, but just for a few days it was nice to be a part of the bustle of family life.

It was not long before Harry was asleep, a smile on his lips as he dreamt of music and dogs and family and punching blonde-haired gits. And all too soon, it was morning, and Padfoot was waking him up in the most disgusting way ever.

"Really, Pads?" he asked as he sat up, trying to wipe dog slobber off of his face, "Every fucking morning?" If he wasn't in dog-form, then Harry would have sworn that his godfather was laughing at him just then. Harry climbed out of bed, dislodging Padfoot who ran out of the door.

"Don't let mum catch you swearing, mate, or we'll never hear the end of it," Ron mumbled as he crawled out of bed, "Remind me again why we're getting out of bed at this unnatural time of the morning?" Harry grinned crookedly, knowing that his best mate would gladly get up this early every morning of his life if it meant he could go to the World Cup.

"Quidditch, mate. Krum. Top Box. Best day of your life," Harry told him as he fished around in his backpack for some clean(ish) clothes. He settled on the black, sleeveless Weird Sisters T-shirt that Tonks had bought him for his birthday along with a pair of faded, three quarter length jeans with grass stains on the knees. Ron was still getting dressed, but Harry wanted time for some breakfast before they left, so he grabbed his dragon skin boots and his backpack and headed for the door.

"See you down there, mate," he called over his shoulder, receiving a grunt in return as the red head attempted to fit his head through the arm-hole of a t-shirt.

Down in the kitchen he found Fred, George and Sirius already sitting around the kitchen table with slices of toast in their hands.

"Cheers," Harry grinned as he stole a piece of toast from Fred's plate. The red head was too tired to notice though, all of his efforts going into trying to stay awake.

"Dozy lot in the mornings, aren't they?" Sirius laughed.

"Maybe you should try out your novel way of waking me up on them," Harry smiled. Waking up to dog slobber was no fun if it was you, but inflicting it on others was definitely amusing. Just then, the fire turned green and spat Neville onto the floor of the kitchen.

"Alright, Nev?" Harry called over, as Sirius helped him off the floor.

"I might be if it wasn't so early," Neville grumbled, brushing soot from his shoulders. Suddenly, his eyes went wide and he had a horrified look on his face, "Not that I'm not grateful or anything, I really am! If Mr and Mrs Weasley hadn't invited me, then there was no way I'd be able to go, Gran would never have tickets and-"

"Neville, mate, calm down, you're rambling," Sirius said, throwing an arm around the boy's shoulders and leading him towards the table, "Just sit down, have some toast, and stop worrying that you've offended anyone. We're all pretty damn hard to offend." Neville had jumped slightly at having an ex-convict putting his arm around him, but he soon relaxed and joined the three boys at the table as they waited for everyone else to drag themselves out of bed.

The trip to the portkey was uneventful. Sirius annoyed them all by barking the entire way there, whilst Ron lagged behind everyone, complaining about not being able to apparate yet. They met Cedric and his father at the portkey, and Amos immediately got off on the wrong foot with Harry and Sirius.

"Ah, yes, Harry Potter. Played my boy in Quidditch, didn't you? When Cedric told me he beat you I said, that's something to tell your grandkids! You beat the famous Harry Potter!" Amos chuckled as though he had told a funny joke, oblivious to both his embarrassed son and the glares coming his way from everyone else.

"Actually, _sir_, I was attacked by dementors which caused me to fall off of my broom. They make me hear my parents dying, see," Harry spat out before turning to Cedric, "but you're a bloody good player, mate, I'll give you that." Harry gave the older boy a crooked grin which was returned, both ignoring the spluttering Amos who could hardly believe that he had been spoken to in such a way.

"And with that taken care of, let's get the portkey, eh?" Sirius exclaimed jovially, clapping his godson on the back. They all gathered around the old boot, jostling each other in order to reach it.

"Three... two... one..." Mr Weasley counted down, looking at his watch. Harry was unprepared for what came next though; it felt as though a hook in his stomach had jerked him upwards and for a second there was nothing but swirling colour and howling wind before his feet slammed into the ground. It was only the reflexes he had gained this summer (it turns out that fighting in pubs, sparring with Sirius and avoiding the many pranks and traps that his godfather liked setting up around the house was a good way to hone such things as reflexes) that stopped him from falling on his face, although several of his companions were not so lucky. In fact, only he, Sirius, Mr Weasley, Mr Diggory and Cedric were the only ones standing, everyone else was slumped on the ground in varying states of disarray.

"Come here," Harry chuckled as he held out one hand for Ginny and one for Ron. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Cedric doing the same for Neville and Hermione whilst Fred and George hauled themselves from the floor.

"Seven past five from Stoatshead Hill," a voice behind them said and a minute later they were being sent away. It was with growing excitement that the group headed towards the campsite: they were almost there, almost at the Quidditch World Cup.


	13. Chapter 13

Disclaimer: Not mine, don't sue.

A/N: Thanks, as always, for all reviews/story alerts/favourites, they are greatly appreciated.

Hope you enjoy the new chapter!

* * *

"Harry, I'm sorry about my dad, he was really rude back there," Cedric had hung back as they made their way across the fields and was currently walking next to Harry with a sheepish look on his face.

"Don't worry about it, mate, he said it, not you so you don't need to apologise," Harry replied, smiling crookedly up at the older boy, "Besides, everyone knows you asked for a rematch for that game, so no hard feelings, yeah?"

"Cheers, Harry," Cedric was visibly relieved and a smile crept onto his face as he looked down at Harry, "Anyway, you've changed since I last saw you." Harry laughed at that, knowing that it was the understatement of the century.

"Yeah, thought it was about time I shed the 'Golden Boy' image. Besides, Pads is a really bad influence."

"Pads?"

"Oh, yeah, Sirius. Pads is just a nickname," Harry backpedalled quickly, realising his mistake.

"You know what?" Cedric asked, grinning disarmingly, "I'm not even going to ask." Harry chuckled, slightly taken aback by the dazzle of the older boy's smile. Now he knew why almost all the girls he knew (along with a few of the boys) fancied Cedric.

"Good idea," ahead, the rest of the group had reached a cottage and Cedric's father was saying goodbye to Mr Weasley and a still annoyed Sirius, "I'll see you around then, yeah? You'll have to drop by the tent later on if you have a minute," Harry said as they caught up to everyone else.

"Sure thing, mate," Cedric called, jogging the last few metres towards his father, "See you later!" Harry saluted in his vague direction, already being distracted by Mr Weasley's attempt to use muggle money.

* * *

"Arthur, why don't you go and get us some water and stuff while I put up the tents?" Sirius suggested kindly, after they had watched the man struggle for at least half an hour. The redheaded father had taken so long in his attempt to act like a muggle that Percy, Charlie and Bill had already arrived expecting to find a fully completed campsite, but instead arriving to a mess of tent pegs and poles.

"Yes, yes, perhaps Harry and Hermione could help you," a flustered Arthur said, oblivious to the amusement his children and guests had been getting from his efforts. Arthur carefully stepped out of the circle of tent parts that he had built around himself and headed off in the direction of the water pump, mumbling to himself about the ingenuity of muggles. Sirius and Harry waited until he had wandered out of sight before turning to each other with identical grins on their faces.

"Magic?" Harry asked, a slight pleading not to his voice the only indication that he had no idea how to put up a tent, despite his muggle upbringing.

"Hell yes," Sirius replied, snapping his wand from the holster on his arm into his hand and beginning to brandish it about like a conductor's baton. Within minutes the tents were up and the fire was lit with sausages and bacon cooking on a grill above it. Neville and Ginny sat nearby buttering bread and looking after the meat. Around the fire, Sirius had conjured a ring of armchairs and sofas, which everyone immediately took seats on, exhausted as most of them were after such an early morning.

"Shouldn't we have deckchairs or something?" Hermione asked as sunk into an armchair, "I mean most muggles don't bring sofas with them when they go camping," she clarified when all of the purebloods looked at her questioningly. Percy pursed his lips for a second and opened his mouth to speak, but Harry sensed a lecture and cut the older boy off before he could even start.

"Yeah, but deckchairs are shit, Hermione. Besides the only muggles around here have been obliviated so many times that it's a miracle they can still remember their own names," he said, frowning as he thought of the last part, "is obliviating muggles just so we can play a sport even legal, Pads? It's not very fucking ethical, is it?"

"Since when was anything the ministry did ethical?" Sirius countered bitterly from where he was lounging across a sofa. Percy puffed up, offended.

"I assure you that everything the ministry does is-" he began in an irritated tone.

"Innocent man thrown into prison for thirteen years with no trial. 'Nuff said, mate," Sirius said with a slight grin as the pompous look fell from Percy's face.

"Anyway," Harry said after a lengthy pause in which everyone quietly ate their food and tried not to laugh at the crestfallen expression Percy was sporting, though both Bill and Charlie couldn't help but let a hastily smothered snigger through, "Chuck us a beer, Pads."

"Get it yourself, you lazy bitch," was the reply, which had most everyone laughing, though Neville, Hermione and Percy donned, in order, shocked, disapproving and disgusted expressions.

"I'll get them," Bill said, fending off the battle of wills that he knew would ensue if it was left to Harry and Sirius- both of them was as stubborn as the other, and so nobody would end up getting a beer at all.

"It's in my backpack," Harry called to Bill who was disappearing into one of the tents just as Mr Weasley came into view precariously carrying several buckets and pans of water.

"Hey dad," Charlie said, standing up from his armchair and taking one of the buckets of water from his father, "I'll make you some tea, you grab something to eat before Ron has it all." Ron at least had the grace to look offended for a second before he turned his attention back to his bacon sandwich. Hermione grinned slightly at her hopeless friend and slipped another couple of sausages onto his plate.

"Thanks, son," Arthur said, falling into one end of an empty sofa. Bill chose that moment to come out of the tent with a crate of muggle beer, causing a frown to form on his father's forehead as the older man thought of what his wife would say.

"Now, boys," he started before Harry cut in.

"It's a muggle camping tradition," he said, grabbing the can that Bill held out for him and taking a large gulp.

"Yes, but even still-" this time it was Sirius who cut him off, and Arthur had to wonder if he would ever get a proper sentence out, with the two of them ganging up on him.

"Oh, let them have one, Arthur. Most of them are old enough, and I'm sure Neville's gran wouldn't mind," actually, Sirius was fairly sure that Augusta would mind very much, but as she would never find out it hardly mattered, "And we won't tell Molly, promise." The ex-convict grinned roguishly and Arthur conceded, hoping that his wife would indeed stay in the dark.

"Only one though, boys," he warned the twins and Ron, chuckling as Ginny took a sip of the muggle alcohol and promptly spat it back out again.

"People drink this?"

* * *

The afternoon passed quickly in a flurry of visitors. Lee Jordan stopped by to see Fred and George, and Cedric was good to his promise and came by, though he left his father behind much to everyone's relief. Several ministry employers stopped by to see Arthur, but they all seemed to have other places to be when they saw that the now innocent Sirius Black was nearby. Sirius was getting a lot of attention from everyone, which confused him no end until late afternoon, when Hermione finally explained.

"Honestly, you're on the front cover of every magazine and newspaper out there, and you wonder why everyone wants to catch a glimpse of you?" she had asked, exasperated. How somebody who had done so well in school could be so dumb sometimes always amazed her.

"Wait, I'm... what? I'm on all the magazines and shit?" Sirius had asked, dumfounded.

"Well, yeah," Charlie had answered, "I mean a few have Harry on them as well, but you're always there with him. How do you not know this? Did you not wonder why your sudden innocence had not caused a bigger fuss?" Sirius had scratched his head, looking sheepish.

"I guess I didn't really think about it. Me and Harry have pretty much spent all our time either at Grimmauld or in muggle pubs, so nobody recognised me anyway," he had said, "talking of being recognised, I still have no idea how Malfoy managed to know I was with you, Harry." His godson took a drag of his cigarette (causing Hermione to wrinkle up her nose in distaste) before answering.

"Malfoy," Harry said in a matter of fact way.

"Yes, how did _Malfoy _find out," Sirius repeated, glaring over at Harry, "honestly, are you really as dumb as you look?"

"No, you sod, Malfoy junior. Fucking Draco," Harry had said with obvious distaste for the boy, "he saw us that day at the butchers, remember? You were Padfoot, of course, but he must have known somehow. Why is it that he always manages to find a way to try and fuck things up for me?"

"Cos he's a git, of course," Ron replied, just as Ginny said:

"Wait, Malfoy was at the _butchers_?"

* * *

The rest of the evening, match included, passed as a blur. Harry had gotten a kick out of finding out that he and Sirius had taken Lucius Malfoy and family's Top Box seats from them, owing to the fact that the ministry were still terrified that Sirius would sue them for his false incarceration. The match itself had been amazing, and Harry had found himself coming out of it with a new determination to play against Krum one day. It didn't matter if he lost, he just wanted the experience. When they got back to their tents Arthur had told them all to go to sleep, but Harry had protested and Sirius had agreed with him. They were all far too worked up to go to sleep, and so a mini after-Quidditch party ensued.

It was halfway through this party that shouts and screams could be heard from outside. Most of the kids assumed it was just drunks, but the two adults who had been in the first war knew differently. Arthur and Sirius exchanged glances and dashed out of the tent, only to reappear a minute later with shocked expressions on their faces.

"There's a riot, Death Eaters are here. Boys, get to the woods, look after Ginny," Arthur snapped. Fred and George immediately stepped forward to flank Ginny whilst Bill, Charlie and Percy looked towards their father.

"We're coming with you, dad," Charlie said, pulling his wand out of his pocket as though to prove that he was serious.

"Fine, but the rest of you, go! And stay together!" Arthur said, frantically trying to get his younger children to safety. Fred grabbed Ginny's hand and dragged her from the tent, George following. Ron, Hermione and Neville left a second later, but Harry stayed behind, a wild look on his face and his wand in his hand.

"Let's go then. I haven't had a good fight in a while," he said, before running out of the door, following the screams and disappearing into the night.


	14. Chapter 14

Disclaimer: Nope, still not mine.

A/N: What's this? Two chapters in as many days? Could it be?

I had a slow night at work last night, so I managed to get most of this written then, so you should all feel very grateful for my crappy job :D

Also, reading back through it there's a LOT of swearing in this. Not that I'm apologising for it, more just warning y'all. I doubt I'll be uploading as quickly as this in the near future, but I won't take too long. I seem to be able to upload every four or so days, and I'll try to stick to that.

As always, reviews make my day and story alerts and favourites are very much appreciated. It lets me know that what I'm writing isn't complete rubbish :)

Enjoy!

* * *

Spell light flashed all around him as he fought against the tide of people running away from the death eaters. He pushed and shoved and yelled at people to '_get the fuck out of the way' _and eventually he was through, and there they were dressed in black with white masks and a muggle family floating above them. A circle of aurors surrounded them, but their spells were too cautious, too concerned with hurting the muggles to do any real good. Harry grabbed the nearest one, a plan forming in his mind.

"Split your team in half, half concentrate on getting the muggles to safety if they are dropped, half to take out the bastards in masks," he yelled, fighting to be heard over the screaming. The older man looked shocked that this young teen was ordering him around, but he nodded dumbly anyway and sent a message around to his peers. Grinning happily, Harry glanced over his shoulder to check that Sirius was not far behind before running into battle.

"Stupefy!" he yelled at the nearest death eater who tumbled to the ground, the muggle he was floating fell for a few metres but was soon saved by one of the aurors, and floated safely to the ground. Harry smirked viciously as he punched the next death eater he came across, following it up with a kick to the stomach and an 'incarcerous', leaving the large man tied up and bleeding on the floor before moving on to his next victim. Had Harry bothered to look behind him at any time, he would have realised that Sirius and Bill were permanently stationed behind him, watching his back and shielding him from harm as he took out over half of the death eaters. But Harry didn't look back, not even for a second, concentrating fully on ploughing ahead in the fight, a grin permanently on his face and a laugh occasionally slipping from his lips.

Harry was shocked when about half an hour into the fight the man he was fighting suddenly stopped, his gaze transfixed to the sky. Never one to miss an opportunity, Harry tackled the man to the ground, causing his hood to fall off and his white mask to go flying. Blond hair spilled across the ground, and Harry tightened his grip on the man's throat as he realised who it was. _Lucius. _

"Hello, _Lucy,_" he smirked, pressing his wand into the older man's temple, "Fancy seeing you here." Malfoy's face was distorted into a grimace of disgust, but if Harry wasn't mistaken then there was fear there too. Fear of what, though?

"Look behind you, _Potter,_" Lucius spat out, glaring daggers at the boy who destroyed his master. Harry couldn't help it, his curiosity got the better of him and he turned. There in the sky, writhing in the clouds was a skull. A skull with a snake coming out of its mouth. The sign of the death eaters, the sign of Voldemort. Sirius had told him about it earlier in the summer. Told him how it would be sent up when someone had been killed. It was over the woods- Ron, Hermione, Fred, George, Ginny, Nevi-

_Thump. _His panic was interrupted as he fell to the floor, the man he had been on top of having dissapparated from beneath him.

"_FUCK!" _he yelled, pounding the grass with his fists in frustration. He had lost him; he had let his fucking guard down. He should know by now not to do that, he was such an _idiot. _

"Hey, pup, you hurt?" Sirius's concerned voice cut into his inner monologue and Harry climbed to his feet, only just realising that several people surrounded him. They were all looking at him warily, bar Sirius and Bill who looked impressed but concerned.

"Why the fuck is everyone looking at me?" he snapped, taking his irritation at having lost Malfoy out on anyone who was closest.

"Cos you look a bit like a serial killer right now?" Bill said. He was joking, but he was half-right. Harry's messy curls were slick with sweat and blood and stuck to his forehead, above blazing green eyes only slightly dimmed by the blood-splattered glasses in front of them. The black sleeveless tee he had put on that morning was covered in mud and was torn in places revealing several large gashes on his torso. His knuckles were bloodied, and his right hand still grasped his wand tightly, making blood run down from his hand to drip from the tip of his wand.

"Never mind that, pup, are you hurt, for fuck's sake? I mean, beside the obvious," Sirius asked, his tone urgent and his worry for his godson obvious.

"I'm fine, Pads, just a few cuts is all. I've had worse," Harry said, pushing his hair from his forehead and trying to get a control of the anger that still bubbled beneath the surface in his mind. Needing to distract himself, he patted his pockets and found his lighter, but his cigarette's were gone, probably scattered across the field somewhere.

"Anyone got a fag?" he asked, glancing around the group. Arthur and many other purebloods looked at him questioningly, but from behind him a feminine hand promptly held out a cigarette, "Cheers, love," he said, taking it and lighting it without checking to see who it was that had offered it.

"Is that all I get?" Tonks asked, walking forward into view, "and I thought you cared about family," she grinned. Her hair was chin length this time, and bright gold. It seemed she still couldn't settle on a colour, Harry mused as he smiled crookedly at her.

"Sorry, Tonks. I would hug you, but I wouldn't want to dirty your clothes," he chuckled as she looked down at her own mud and blood-stained clothes and rolled her eyes at him. He reached out and gave her a one-armed hug, before looking around and realising that half of the aurors were still staring at him.

"Gees, I know I'm hot, but don't you lot have better things to do?" he asked, glaring around at the lot of them. A middle aged man with dark skin and a gold hoop earring through one ear stepped forward.

"I would like to thank you, Mr Potter on behalf of the ministry for your help today," he spoke with a deep, slow voice that had a calming effect on Harry. Or that might have been the nicotine kicking into his system. But he could feel the anger receding and smiled at the man in front of him.

"S'my pleasure, mate. Fighting wizards is way more fun than fighting muggles," he grinned slightly manically, knowing full well that he was about to destroy his reputation as the 'Golden Boy', "Wizards put up more of a fight, see." Sirius's barking laughter was the only sound that followed, everyone else was too shocked to speak. Arthur turned to Sirius, looking angry.

"I don't know what you've been teaching the boy, Sirius, but I'm not sure it's done him a lot of good, do you? What happened to the boy I used to know? The one who was polite and brave and loyal?" he was almost shouting at the end, distraught at the damage inflicted upon the boy he thought of as a son.

"Dad, calm down," Bill said, his hand on his father's shoulder, as he saw Sirius's face contort into a snarl and Harry throw his cigarette to the floor and step forward, ready to back up his god father.

"Mr Weasley," the teen started, fighting to keep his voice even, "I am still the same boy I was. Christ, all Sirius has done is teach me how to have fun, how to _live_. I can defend myself now, I have control over my own fucking life. And I finally have a life worth living, so I'd thank you to _back the fuck off_," the last was hissed out through gritted teeth, and Arthur stared at him in shock.

"Harry? Dad? What the hell is going on?" Ron's voice came from behind them and they all turned, Harry and Sirius already with wands in their hands, ready for any threat. They lowered them instantly when they saw that it was only Ron, Hermione and Neville, though a few ministry officials stood behind them.

"Nothing, son," Arthur said instantly, flashing a look at Harry and Sirius, warning them to keep quiet, "Are you all okay? Where are Fred and George and Ginny?"

"Back at the tent with Percy and Charlie, we wanted to make sure Harry was alright," Neville answered, looking between the three men questioningly. His look went unanswered however, and instead they were set upon with questions about what had happened in the woods. Hermione explained most of it, how they had lost the others but headed into the woods, finding a clearing and staying there. How they had heard a voice saying a spell, and then the dark mark had been shot into the sky. They spoke of the discovery of Winky, who appeared to have stolen Neville's wand.

"The ministry decided to keep the wand for evidence, and then we were brought back here," She finished, eyeing Harry confusedly. He was covered in blood and dirt and looked furious with something. What had happened, had he been attacked? She didn't get an answer to her unasked questions though, as Harry stepped forward and grabbed Sirius by the arm.

"I'm glad you're all alright, guys, but we have to go," he said curtly, and the pair of them stalked away, heading in the direction of the portkey point.

* * *

Harry was fuming, and he knew that Sirius beside him was as well. He would always be grateful to Arthur for being so kind over the years, but that didn't give him the right to speak to Harry's only close family in that way. He was so caught up in his rage that he didn't notice the blonde boy in front of him until they had walked into each other.

"Get the _fuck _out my way!" Harry snarled, looking up and realising that it was Malfoy jr.

"My, my, Potter, get into a fight, did we?" The blonde taunted, sporting his signature smirk.

"Why don't you ask your bloody wanker of a father?" Harry retorted, drawing the attention of Sirius beside him.

"You caught Lucy?" the ex-convict asked, hope shining in his eyes.

"Nah, he wiggled away at the last second," Harry replied stalking past Malfoy and out of sight.

Draco stood rooted to the spot. His father had definitely been out there then. He had suspected, of course, that he would be, but a small part of him had hoped that his father had come to the world cup to spend some time with his son. But no, of course not. Draco growled slightly, low in his throat, causing passersby to look around, only to be met with a glare to rival any other.

It was all _Potter's fault, _he decided, and the boy hero would pay.


	15. Chapter 15

Disclaimer: *Sigh*. Still not mine. Still don't sue me.

A/N: Okay, so I said that I wouldn't be updating that quickly, but this one kind of wrote itself really quickly in the like, half hour gaps between college and work.

As always, reviews make me smile (even the mean ones, because it means someone paid enough attention to what I was writing to know that they hated it :D), and thank you very much to everyone who read/favourited/and story alerted.

Enjoy!

* * *

Harry stood in front of the mirror in his room and swirled his cloak around experimentally, grinning as it swung around his body. Very dashing, he thought with a smirk.

"What the bloody hell are you doing, pup?" Sirius barked from the hallway. Harry jumped at the interruption and barely stopped himself from drawing his wand on his godfather.

"What do you think, eh? Posh or what?" he asked, gesturing to the cloak draped around his shoulders. It was the one Sirius's aunt Andromeda had given Harry for his birthday, grey with a silver panther clasp. He had found it in a pile of stuff in his room and, realising he had never even tried it on before, had decided to wear it rather than his usual leather jacket.

"You just need a sword, mate, to complete the look," Sirius joked, noting that the look itself was rather ruined anyway by the leather trousers (where had he got them from, Sirius wondered, casting his mind back, trying to remember if James had ever had a pair) and tight, green t-shirt. He saw, however, to his dismay, that his godson's eyes had lit up at the mention of a sword.

"Do you think we can get one in Diagon Alley?" Harry asked hopefully, turning back to the mirror and imagining himself with a sword in his hand, "that'd show fucking Malfoy if I turn up to Hogwarts with a sword in my hand." Sirius rolled his eyes at his godson's obsession with Draco Malfoy; it rivalled the marauder's obsession with Snape, and that was saying something.

"Yeah, I'm sure Dumbledore will let you carry a sword around the school," he replied sarcastically, "come on pup, stop ogling yourself and get downstairs, we need to get going." Harry took one last look at himself in the mirror and turned, with a swish of his cloak, to follow Sirius downstairs and out the front door.

"You just had to wear a cloak, didn't you," Sirius muttered as another group of muggles passed by giving them curious looks. Harry grinned as he walked along next to his godfather with a skip in his step.

"Nah, don't worry Pads, they're just staring cos I'm hot," he joked, laughing at the indignant look on Sirius's face.

"_You're _hot? Excuse me, I think it's the charms of the bad boy ex-convict that they're more interested in," Sirius replied, his nose in the air.

"Pfft, yeah right, old man," Harry said as he reached the door to the Leaky Cauldron and pushed it open, holding it open for an irritated Sirius, "Ladies first."

"I'll give you fucking ladies first," his godfather muttered, stalking past the younger boy, "and old man too. Bloody kid."

"Harry m'boy!" Tom called from behind the bar as he caught sight of who had just entered his pub, "And Sirius! I was so glad when I found out you were innocent, and I've been hoping you'd come by sometime, so I could tell you that I'm very sorry for believing any different all these years." The old landlord was sincere, and Sirius, who had of course harboured no ill will to Tom at all, was touched by the gesture.

"Don't worry about it, Tom, you weren't to know," he answered, shaking his hand. Tom grinned toothily and turned to Harry.

"You're looking better than last time I saw you," he chuckled, remembering the hung over Harry that had entered his pub earlier in the summer in search of bacon.

"Cheers, mate," Harry smiled ruefully before brightening, "Do you like my cloak?" He stepped back and turned around once, causing the grey material to swirl around him for the umpteenth time that morning.

"Oh, um, it's very handsome," Tom answered, sending a questioning glance at Sirius.

"Don't ask, he's been in a weird mood all morning," Harry heard and pouted slightly at the pair of them.

"Oh fuck off, both of you, I can be in a good mood can't I? After all, I've got my friends, I've got my godfather, I've got a bloody fabulous cloak, and I've just had the best summer of my life. I think I'm allowed to be a bit cheerful. Now, if you wankers will excuse me, I'm off the find a sword." And with that, Harry flounced off out the back exit to the pub, leaving two bemused men behind him.

"I'd better go catch up with him before he _actually _buys a sword," Sirius muttered, waving goodbye to Tom as he dashed after his godson.

Harry had just stepped through the archway when Sirius appeared behind him and they entered the alley together. Harry wasn't sure if this was fortunate or not as a dozen reporters and photographers descended upon them as soon as they stepped foot on the street.

"Mr Black! How do you feel about the ministry after having to wait thirteen years for your trial?"

"Mr Potter! Why did you go after the death eaters at the world cup?"

"Mr Black! What-"

"Mr Potter! Who-"

"Mr Black!"

"Mr Potter!"

And so on. The two men blinked in astonishment as camera flashes went off and questions were hurled at them from all angles. Sirius regained his senses first and grabbing Harry's arm, he stalked off down the alley, flipping off the reporter's in his wake. The shouts followed after them, but Sirius kept walking and eventually the reporters realised that they wouldn't be getting an interview and tailed off, after snapping a few more pictures.

"Must have been recognised when we were in the Leaky Cauldron," Harry muttered angrily, "Why can't they just send an owl if they want an interview? Instead of mobbing us in the fucking streets."

"Cos they're idiots, maybe?" Sirius answered bitterly, making his way into Flourish and Blotts, "So, where's the book list then, pup? Harry?" Not receiving an answer, Sirius turned only to see his godson standing in the doorway, a look of realisation on his face as he tried and failed to enter the shop.

"Umm, Pads?" he asked hesitantly, "I kind of got banned from the shop earlier in the summer so... I guess you'll have to get my books?" It was obvious by his tone that he didn't think his godfather would mind him being banned from the shop, but would instead mind being asked to do the extra work by himself.

"Is there a problem, here?" The same young assistant who had caused the predicament had sidled up to them, a smug look on his face, "Anything I can help with?"

"Yeah, you can let my godson in the bloody shop so I don't have to find all his books myself," Sirius snapped. Unfortunately for the shop assistant, Sirius had never liked smarmy people, and he had already been wound up by the reporters.

"I'm afraid I can't do that. This young man was banned for a reason, Mr...?"

"Black, dickhead. Sirius fucking Black." The assistant quailed under Sirius's glare; he had, of course, been told that Sirius was innocent but in that moment he wasn't so sure that the man in front of him wasn't capable of what he had been accused of. He snapped his eyes over to the youth in the doorway, flicking his glance up to the boy's forehead before refocusing his attention on the angry man in front of him. Some of the customers were beginning to stare, having recognised the two men before he had. Harry Potter. He had banned the Boy Who Lived from the shop. He was going to be fired, he knew it.

"E-even st-still, sir," he stuttered before a hand was placed on his shoulder and he was pulled backwards. An attractive middle aged woman with long hair piled into a loose bun on top of her head and tiny half-moon glasses perched on the end of her nose replaced him in front of Sirius.

"Mr Black," she began huskily, "I'm terribly sorry for the inconvenience, and for the rudeness of our staff," here she shot a glare back at the assistant who began thinking of other places he could look for employment, "I'd be delighted to retract the ban, so long as Mr Potter promises not to go beating up any more customers on the premises."

"Yeah, whatever," Harry called from the doorway, where he had been leaning against the doorframe and fiddling with the clasp on his cloak. The woman snapped her fingers and Harry found himself able to cross the threshold.

"Cheers, love," he said as he walked into the shop.

"My pleasure, Mr Potter," she smiled, "Is there any other assistance that I can offer you today?"

"Yeah, you can get the little git behind you to find our books for us, if you please," Sirius said, grinning evilly at the git in question.

* * *

"So, just dress robes left to get then," Sirius said, consulting his list.

"And a sword, mate. Don't forget the sword," Harry answered, "Wait a minute, why do I need dress robes? I never have before."

"Huh? I thought I told you?" Sirius stopped walking and turned to face his godson, ignoring the dirty looks he was getting from the people who they were holding up.

"Told me what?"

"I seriously didn't tell you?" A grin was forming on Sirius's face even as a frown appeared on Harry's.

"Tell me fucking what, Pads?" He almost yelled.

"Oh, nothing," Sirius carried on walking towards Madam Malkins, smiling innocently.

"I hate you," was all Harry said before stalking past his godfather into the shop.

Half an hour later they left, having bought an emerald green robe that Harry despised. The only way he had been persuaded to buy it was by Sirius promising that they could have a quick jaunt into Knockturn Alley in search of a sword.

Sirius lit a cigarette as they made their way off of the main shopping street into the dark, dingy alleyway frequented by hags and other dark creatures. They passed by various shops selling potions, artefacts and books before Harry spotted one that interested him. It wasn't a weapons shop, but a tattoo parlour, one that Sirius recognised from his youth.

The bell sounded as they walked through the door, alerting a tall, heavily tattooed woman to their presence.

"Well, well, Sirius Black. And this must be the Boy Who Lived, what an _honour_," she drawled, curling her red lips up into a smile. Harry scowled and flipped her off, turning his attention to the examples of tattoos and piercings that covered the walls.

"Annabelle, I didn't expect you to still be here," Sirius said, approaching the counter.

"I wouldn't leave this place for the world," she said fondly, glancing around the shop with the kind of expression that is usually reserved for looking at ones children or family. It was clear that she loved her business, and Sirius was glad to see that she was still going strong after all these years.

"Anyway, how's the tattoo holding up?" she asked, wiping the nostalgic look off of her face and pulling her short brown hair behind her ears.

"It's still as perfect as the day you did it, love," Sirius answered with a happy grin on his face. He pulled the vest he was wearing down slightly, showing off the tattoo over his heart. It was four letters, in an elegant Victorian script. _MWPP. _

"Shit, Pads, I didn't know you had that," Harry had come over and was staring at the tattoo with a small frown on his face, "You should get it changed." The frown on the boy's face deepened and he wandered away again.

"He's cheerful," Annabelle commented, arching an eyebrow. Sirius wasn't listening though. He was instead staring down at the letters over his heart. The names of his brothers. Except one was dead, gone forever, one was a traitor and it was only Padfoot and Moony left.

"Fuck it," he muttered, "You busy today, or have you got time to fit me in?"

* * *

A tall, blonde boy ducked into a side street, praying to any deity out there that the two men who had been walking in his direction wouldn't find him. What were they even doing in Knockturn Alley? He hadn't wanted to risk seeing them, and so he had been avoiding Diagon Alley all week, not expecting them to ever step foot into such a disreputable place. It was just his luck, though. It was bad enough that they had taken away his only sanctuary, meaning that the only way he could get away from his father was by roaming the streets, but now his worst enemy and co. kept appearing everywhere he went.

He couldn't wait to get back to Hogwarts.


	16. Chapter 16

Disclaimer: disclaimed.

A/N: Sorry about the slight delay on this chapter, life is really hectic- I'm doing the best I can :D I'm now at college four days a week, and working four days a week. Luckily, I usually have time to write when I'm at work (if it isn't too busy) so you shouldn't have to wait too long.

As usual, thanks to everyone who is reading and otherwise supporting this story, and special thanks to everyone who's reviewed, it really does make my day to hear what you think of what I'm writing.

Enjoy!

* * *

"So what's the plan tonight?" Sirius asked Harry as he entered the kitchen. Harry was lounged in a chair with his feet propped up on the table, lazily summoning the cutlery from across the kitchen.

"I need to pack still, so that I guess," Harry shrugged. Sirius frowned and pushed his godson's feet off the table.

"For fuck's sake, pup, it's your last night here before you go back to Hogwarts, you don't want to do anything interesting?" Harry smiled, Sirius's enthusiasm was contagious.

"Ruby's then?" he asked and was rewarded by a dazzling grin. They had found out early in the summer that Ruby's pub (although Ruby did not own it, she was always there when they turned up so it seemed fitting) was by far the roughest of those in their part of London. It was usually Harry who dragged Sirius there, craving the adrenaline rush that the dangerous atmosphere and the fights he inevitably got into caused.

"Let me grab my coat then," Harry said, already heading out of the room.

They reached the pub in record time, each of them feeling antsy. Harry was excited that he would be back at Hogwarts the next day, though he wasn't so pleased about not being able to see his godfather while he was there. Sirius himself was dreading the next day, but he pushed the feeling down, determined to enjoy this last night with his godson. The dive of a pub was crowded when they reached it. A dark-haired girl was screaming into a microphone in one corner, but Harry and Sirius ignored her and the surrounding dancers in favour of pushing their way to the bar. Ruby grinned when she saw them, leaning over the bar to kiss them each on the cheek, causing more than a few men to glare at them jealously.

"You in for a rough one tonight? 'Cos that's what you're gonna get," she warned them, eyeing the crowds suspiciously as she poured them some drinks.

"Fucking perfect," Harry answered, downing the shot in front of him in one.

* * *

Harry was floating in a blue sky that seemed to stretch on forever. Swarms of tiny white snitches were fluttering around, and he felt the oddest urge to run away from them. He started to run, only to realise that he didn't have any legs, or any arms or anything at all other than two tiny white wings on either side of his head. He felt a nudge on his shoulder, although that should have been impossible because he had no shoulders.

"Mr Harry Potter, sir!" the voice was distant but annoying, and he slowly found himself regaining consciousness.

"Dobbs?" he slurred, opening his eyes experimentally and coming face to face with house elf before hurriedly shutting them again, hiding from the light.

"Yes, Mr Harry Potter, sir! You must get up now, it is almost 11, and you is needing to get to the train station!" the elf's eyes were wide with worry, and he was wringing his hands together.

"Oh, shit!" Harry yelped, sitting up abruptly, only to be stopped by the pain in his head, "I haven't even packed yet!"

"Dobby did it for you, sir!" the elf piped up happily, pointing to Harry's trunk and bag which did indeed stand fully packed in the doorway, "But I wasn't knowing if yous were wanting the things from the attic, so I packed them anyway!"

"Err, right, thanks Dobby," Harry said, confused. He had stuff in the attic? "I'll check when I'm on the train, and if I don't want it I'll send it back, yeah?" He had jumped out of bed by this time and grabbed his wand and glasses from the floor beside his bed. He didn't have time to change, and so he just hurriedly grabbed his leather jacket that had been draped over his trunk and legged it down the stairs, charming his luggage to follow him.

"Hey, pup," Sirius greeted when he got to the kitchen. His godfather was stood ready by the fireplace, nursing a cup of coffee and looking somewhat worse for wear. He had bruises all over one side of his face, as though his head had been smashed into a wall and his knuckles were bloodied and covered in dirt. Harry wondered briefly whether he looked as bad, but dismissed the thought almost immediately- another thing to worry about when he was safely on the train.

"Mornin' Pads," Harry panted as he grabbed a handful of floo powder before passing the pot over, "Bye Dobby! Come visit me, yeah?" he called over his shoulder at the tiny elf (whose eyes filled with tears of joy, though Harry didn't see) before stepping into the fireplace and whizzing off to the station.

He fell out of the grate at the other end clumsily and, in his still only half awake state, did not have time to pick himself up off of the floor before his luggage came flying out of the fireplace on top of him. Luckily his trunk didn't burst open, but it did add a few extra bruises to him. He had just stood and gathered himself when his godfather arrived, still clutching his coffee mug, though more of it was on him now than was in the mug.

"C'mon, pup, I can see Ron and Hermione," Sirius grumbled, his tall stature allowing him to see over people's heads as they milled around. And sure enough, behind a few people were Harry's two best friends, craning their necks around in search of him. Ron saw him first, and grinned, waving, before his expression suddenly fell and became instead one of shock. Hermione saw him soon after, when he was only metres away, and a tiny scream left her mouth before she muffled it with her hands.

"Harry!" she screeched when he reached them, drawing the attention of everyone nearby, "What happened to you?" Harry looked down at himself in confusion. His brown t-shirt was ripped, showing off slight grazes on the skin underneath and the yellow tartan trousers he had worn the night before were caked in dirt and... was that blood? He couldn't see his face, but he felt it gingerly, wondering where the blood had come from. Sure enough, there was a large graze along his jaw and his neck felt bruised.

"Umm... I fell over?" he tried, shrugging sheepishly. Hermione narrowed her eyes as she saw Sirius standing behind Harry.

"Have you two been fighting?" she asked, her voice was businesslike but a slight crease on her forehead betrayed her worry.

"Of course we have, love," Sirius rolled his eyes as he lit a cigarette, glaring at Harry when his godson stole a drag, "but not with each other, so don't worry. Although if you don't stop stealing my fags, pup, then I might just have to start." Harry chuckled, taking a deep drag from the cigarette just as the train's whistle blew and all of the family's around them said their final goodbyes.

"Come on, mate, we'd better get on," Ron said, clapping his friend on the shoulder.

"Just give me a sec, yeah?" Harry said, looking pointedly towards Sirius who was sulking behind him.

"Don't be too long though," Hermione said as she and Ron moved off towards where Mr and Mrs Weasley stood with Ginny a few metres away, the twins having already run off to find their friends. Mr Weasley was frowning angrily in Sirius's direction, but they ignored it, turning to each other to say their goodbyes.

"I got Dobby to pack something extra in your trunk, a way to talk to me during the term," Sirius started, looking awkwardly at his feet, "if you want to, that is."

"Shut up, Pads, of course I want to fucking talk to you," Harry answered, rolling his eyes, "Take care of yourself, yeah? Say goodbye to Ruby for me." Harry winked and his godfather let out a loud, barking laugh.

"Will do, pup," he grinned, pulling his godson into a hug. A manly hug, though. "Fuck off, then, there's a good boy," he said, letting Harry go and pushing him in the direction of the train with his luggage. Harry chuckled, grabbing his trunk and climbing aboard. He turned and saluted to his godfather who did the same back, grinning.

As they pulled away from the station, Harry saw Mr Weasley moving towards Sirius, but he shrugged- it was Sirius's problem now, and he knew exactly what his godfather would say to the accusations of bad parenting.

It didn't matter, anyway, because even though he would be away from Sirius, he was going back to Hogwarts- finally.


	17. Chapter 17

Disclaimer: These things are annoying. JK owns Hazzy P, and any other books/ references to anything else doesn't belong to me. I own the plot and Harry's trousers (this sounds weird, but I just have the same pair he wears this/last chapter sitting in the back of my wardrobe somewhere).

A/N: New chapter already? Yup! I had a well-deserved day off of college today, and so had time to sleep. And write, of course, but sleep mostly :) I'm almost at 50 reviews and favourites, and 100 story alerts! Weeee! Perhaps I'll do a sort of bonus chapter type thing when I get there? Going into more detail about a Harry/ Sirius night out maybe? Or whatever else you want. If anyone has ideas, or thinks it would be a good thing to do, then tell me in a review. If no-one's interested then... I'll be sad, but I'm sure I'll get over it :D

Anyway, I hope you like the new chapter!

* * *

"So, how was your summer, mate?" Ron asked when they had settled into a compartment in the middle of the train, "In your last letter it sounded like you were having fun." Harry smirked, remembering back to his last letter to Ron. It had been the night after he and Sirius had been to Diagon, and Knockturn, Alley. Harry had come out of the visit with not only his school things and a small sword (Sirius had eventually relented and told him that if Dumbledore asked, then it was all Harry's idea), but two piercings- one in the cartilage halfway up his right ear and the other through the back of his neck. Sirius's tattoo had been changed as well; a tiny lily covered the 'W', to commemorate Harry's mother. He had wanted to get an initial to represent Harry himself, but they had decided that he needed a marauder name first, and so needed to become an animagus. The books for Harry to begin studying from were in his trunk.

"Yeah, it was great," Harry grinned, "you have no idea how good it was to have Sirius there with me. I mean, not that it wasn't great to hang out at yours in the summer before," he hastily added, "but it always felt like I was borrowing _your _family, you know? And now it's like I have a family of my own." Hermione had been glaring at the two of them before this, angry at Harry for getting into fights (it wasn't that she was the boring bookworm, it was just that she was _worried _about him), and Ron for shrugging it off as nothing important. But at Harry's words she softened and smiled at him. It might be an unconventional family, she thought, but after so many years of having nobody, Harry deserved this.

"I'm happy for you, Harry," she said and he reached over and pulled her into a hug, "Scourgify!" she said as soon as he pulled away. All of the blood and sweat and dirt that had been covering Harry beforehand disappeared, leaving him clean even if his clothes were still ripped. She sighed. She had done the best she could. They settled down after that- Hermione to re-reading the course books, Ron to building a tower out of exploding snap cards, and Harry to exploring the contents of his trunk, having remembered that both Dobby and Sirius had told him to look through it.

The first thing he came across was a bundle of books and letters and photos that didn't belong to him. This must have been the stuff from the attic, he thought to himself, frowning slightly as he flicked through them.

"Holy shit!" he gasped as he recognised the people in one of the pictures. Ron was concentrating so hard that he didn't look up from his cards, but Hermione sent him a questioning gaze, eyeing the bundle in his hands curiously. "Never mind," he said hastily, putting his knees up in front of him to hide the papers. The picture on top showed a tiny blonde boy of about seven years old on a muggle swing whilst his friend, a dark skinned boy of about the same age pushed him. The next one was of the same pair, though they were slightly older, dressed in muggle clothing as they queued up at a cinema. He flicked through the small pile, finding five other photos of similar situations, all of the two boys at varying ages, before he found one with another lady in it. She was elegant but casual, standing next to the two boys in a formal pose, and Harry recognised her instantly. Andromeda Tonks. But what did Sirius's cousin have to do with Malfoy and Blaise?

He suddenly flashed back to earlier in the summer, to his encounter with the two boys as they tried to get into his house. What was it Blaise had said before he left?

"_In the attic, there's some stuff of ours. I'd appreciate it if you could send it to us." _

Huh, this must be what he had meant. Shaking his head, he put the photos to the back of the pile and turned his attention to the books instead. They seemed to be a strange collection of books written by muggle authors; _The Hobbit _was there, along with _A Clockwork Orange, The Picture Of Dorian Gray _and, of all things, the children's book _A Very Hungry Caterpillar_. He was thoroughly confused by the time he reached the letters in the pile. Every single one of them was addressed to '_My Dearest Nephew, Draco Malfoy'. _Harry paused just before opening the first letter. For some reason, it felt like snooping, like he was about to read something private. He felt slightly guilty even thinking about it.

"Oh, fuck," he muttered as he realised what he had to do to assuage his guilt. Reaching into his trunk, he found a sheet of parchment and, under the curious gaze of both of his best friends (Ron's tower had exploded in his face a while before, but Harry had been too engrossed to notice), he wrapped the stack of papers and such up, hiding the evidence that both of the Slytherins had obviously wanted to conceal. He jumped up, leaving his jacket on the seat and ignoring the questions from Ron and Hermione, and left the compartment in search of a certain couple of fourth year Slytherins.

The reaction from the other students to him as he walked down the train was mixed, to say the least. He didn't want to be stereotypical, but this was one of those times that the lines between the houses was most obvious. Gryffindors called out greetings to him as he passed, many of them eyeing his new look with interest (though Seamus Finnegan's interest appeared to be double that of everyone else's). Slytherins sneered at him, though this was nothing new, and the braver ones threw insults at his back. The Ravenclaws looked him up and down with distaste, though a few of the girls seemed to share some of Seamus's views. The Hufflepuffs were simply friendly as ever, treating him no differently than they had before. There were exceptions to every house, however, and when he finally found the compartment he was looking for, Harry discovered that Blaise Zabini was most definitely one such exception.

"Potter," he nodded cordially, eyeing the large package in Harry's hands with interest.

"Zabini," Harry smirked, enjoying the looks of shock that had crossed the rest of the compartment's faces when Blaise had greeted him so politely. Blaise sat next to the door on the left, with Crabbe and Goyle beside him. On the opposite side, Malfoy lounged across the seat, while Pansy was pushed up into one corner with the blonde's head on her lap.

"What the fuck do you want, Potter?" Malfoy snarled without even lifting his head as he pointed his wand at his enemy.

"Well, now, my little caterpillar loving friend," Harry paused for a second to allow Draco to realise what the reference meant, "That's really no way to greet a person who holds your future in their hands now, is it?"

"Perhaps we should talk outside," Blaise said, standing and holding out a hand to help Draco up. Harry led the way out of the compartment, and took them down the train a bit before finding an empty one. Blaise and Draco followed him inside, and Blaise took a seat by the window, crossing his legs and looking for all the world as if he was about to have a casual chat with friends. Draco and Harry chose to stay standing, Draco by the window opposite Blaise, and Harry leaning against the closed door.

"Here," Harry broke the silence that had descended upon them, throwing the package in his hands to Blaise. The other boy raised an eyebrow at the wrapping, having guessed already what was inside.

"I assume you know exactly what is in this?" he asked.

"Of course. The pictures, the books, the letters-"

"You read my fucking letters?" Draco snapped suddenly, moving forward slightly and clenching one hand around his wand.

"No, you twat, I just saw that there were letters there, I have some manners for fuck's sake," Harry scoffed, reaching an arm up to scratch his head and casually showing off his wand in it's holster as an unspoken threat as to what would happen should Malfoy start anything.

"Thank you," Blaise's tone was genuine and Harry's eyes snapped towards him, confused. Perhaps there was some good in Slytherins after all, he thought.

"My pleasure," he answered slowly, eyes still fixed on the other boy suspiciously, as though expecting any second for him to retract the promise and become the nasty Slytherin Harry had assumed him to be.

"We'll just be going then," Blaise said, standing and waiting for Harry to move out of the way of the door, "Draco?" The blonde boy hadn't moved from his spot by the window.

"I'll just be a second, don't worry," Draco said imperiously, as though it was an order. Blaise frowned, that tone was usually reserved for Crabbe, Goyle or Pansy- he had never had it used on him before. Nevertheless, he inclined his head in agreement and moved out of the compartment, leaving the two enemies by themselves.

Draco glared at Harry, who rolled his eyes. He was too tired and hung-over this morning for the amateur theatrics that was Malfoy threatening him. Deciding to scare the boy out of the compartment instead, he took a stepped closer.

"So, Malfoy," Harry began in a teasing tone, "Me, you, an empty compartment, what is there to talk about?"

"What?" Malfoy hissed. He couldn't possibly have heard that right. It was simply impossibly unfair that Potter could look the way he did this morning (Malfoy always had liked the rough, bad boy look- a rebellion against his upbringing, he supposed) and then talk to him like that. His plan was going to pieces in his mind. All he had wanted was to threaten the bloody Boy Who Lived, and then get back to his compartment to be worshipped by Pansy. But no, nothing was ever simple where Harry Bloody Potter was concerned.

"You know what I said," Harry answered, tugging one corner of his mouth up into a crooked smile and taking another step closer to Malfoy. His tone was his most seductive, and although he hadn't practised it nearly as much as he had his angry or threatening voices, he was confident that it wasn't too bad. Of course, it helped that Malfoy was gorgeous- all pale skin and blonde hair. Shaking his head minutely to clear such thoughts from his mind (where had they come from, anyway, he asked himself), he moved even closer to Malfoy, standing inches in front of him. Harry was taller by about half a foot, which meant that Malfoy was forced to look up at the dark haired boy to see him.

"So," Harry said in a breathy tone, "What is there to talk about?" Malfoy looked up at the dazzling green eyes that were locked to his and froze. How long he stood there for, his mouth open dumbly but no words coming out of it, he didn't know, but when he finally managed to work his mouth, he found to his surprise that actual words came out of it, instead of nonsense.

"Fuck you, Potter," he spat out, contorting his face into an angry snarl.

"I thought we already covered that, Malfoy, and I hate to reject a guy twice-" Harry got no further as Malfoy barged past him and almost ran from the compartment.

Harry's ringing laughter followed him down the train.


	18. Chapter 18

Disclaimer: disclaimed.

A/N: I feel like I haven't updated in ages, but I suppose it hasn't been that long. I'm actually away from home right now visiting some friends at uni, but I wrote this on the train on the way. I hope it's not terrible, I haven't really read over it much after writing it the first time. But, I thought I'd take a risk and post anyway haha. If it's too bad, tell me and I''ll edit and then post it again :D

As usual, thanks to all who read/review/favourite/story alert. If anyone at all is interested in a bonus chapter type thing (or a separate one shot based on something in this story) then I have a few ideas, and I would welcome more.

Anyway, enjoy!

* * *

"Harry, my boy, do come in."

The Sorting and feast had been interesting, to say the least. Mad Eye Moody had made a dramatic entrance, much to Harry's interest. The man knew how to make a first impression, but whether that impression was good or bad was yet to be seen. Either way, he was an ex-auror and so was bound to know the material, although Harry was sure that he had already learnt the entire fourth year course over the summer with Sirius.

Then there had been uproar when the headmaster had announced that the Triwizard tournament would be taking place at Hogwarts, and that Quidditch would be cancelled. Ron's eyes had lit up at the thought of the prize money, but then dulled down again as the age line was explained. Harry had rolled his eyes at the entire thing- eternal glory? Sounded bloody poncy, in his opinion. He'd take a good pub brawl over fighting for his life for money any day. It did, however, explain the mystery behind the dress robes that he'd been forced to buy, as there would be a ball at Christmas. He resolved then and there that he wouldn't wear them, and instead give them to Ron to replace his tatty old thing.

The evening had become even interesting when a third year Slytherin approached Harry as everyone headed off to bed. The girl had a message from Professor Snape, which Harry managed to decipher through the sneers and insults she was sending his way. He was to go to the headmaster's office straight away. Sighing, as he had been looking forward to getting into his bed, he changed directions and waved goodbye to his friends, taking a few secret passageways to Professor Dumbledore's office. The gargoyle opened before him and he ran up the stairs and knocked on the door, hoping that this wouldn't take long.

Inside, Harry took a seat and accepted the proffered lemon drop. He was about to ask why he was there when the door opened and Professor Snape walked in.

"Ah, Severus, please, take a seat," Dumbledore said with a smile, gesturing towards the other seat before his desk. The potions master sneered at Harry, glancing over his clothes in obvious disgust. Really, he thought, and they say that _I _don't wash. Harry's usually unkempt hair was even worse today, sticking out in all directions, and quite clearly in need of some good shampoo. He had still been too hung-over on the train (at least that was his excuse, really he was just too lazy) to change properly into his school uniform, and so he had just flung his robe around him, though it fell open at the front, revealing his torn clothes underneath. He knew that he looked a state, of course, but he was simply too tired to care.

"Now, Harry. I am sure you are wondering why you are here. I actually wanted to talk to you about quite a few things," Harry groaned inwardly- this would be taking a while then, "The most important of which is the Occlumency lessons that we discussed during the summer. Professor Snape has consented to teach you."

"But we hate each other," Harry said bluntly, causing Snape to snort in agreement. Obviously, he was no happier with the plan than Harry was.

"Even still," the headmaster said, his eyes twinkling with amusement, "Perhaps you will be able to find some common ground." Harry frowned; he hated the Professor's habit of speaking in riddles. Snape was scowling as well, making it clear that he thought the likelihood of him and Harry finding any sort of common ground absolutely ridiculous.

"Fine," Harry sighed, fishing out a cigarette from his jeans pockets, and fumbling with his wand to light the end of it, "when are they?" He took a drag before turning and exhaling smoke into Snape's face, smirking when the Potions Master coughed slightly.

"Every Friday evening," the older man drawled, ignoring Harry's attempts to rile him up, "And you will tell anybody who cares enough to ask that you have remedial potions. Those who have seen your performance in my classroom could hardly deny that you are in dire need of them." An evil smirk settled on his face, which Harry took as a challenge.

"Like fuck I will," he snapped, taking another drag before calming down significantly, "I'll just say I have detention. I'll say you gave it to me for breathing, I'm sure no-one will find that particularly out of character."

"You insolent little-" Snape's face had turned white, hardly able to believe that a student, even _Potter, _could be so rude.

"How's Bill, by the way?" Harry asked, grinning, "I hear you and he know each other _quite well_." The mortified Professor turned even whiter before his face became beetroot red. He opened and closed his mouth a few times, unable to form words that fully expressed his rage. Seeing his opportunity, Harry turned back to the Headmaster, letting Snape stew in his anger for a while.

"So, what else was on the agenda then?" Dumbledore conjured an ashtray which he put pointedly in front of Harry before he spoke.

"I'm afraid there have been some complaints about Sirius's parenting methods." There was no trace of humour in his tone, and his expression was grave. At that moment, with the possibility of having to tear the boy in front of him away from his family again weighing heavy on his mind, the old wizard looked every single one of his years.

"Oh for fuck's sake, not this again," Harry rubbed a hand over his eyes; he wasn't in the mood for this today.

"Again?"

"Yeah. After the Quidditch cup, after the fight and everything, Mr Weasley had a... ahem... _discussion _with Sirius about his concerns about the influence Pads was having on me. He seemed to think that I had been corrupted, that I had become some sort of delinquent or something." He was fighting hard to keep his annoyance out of his voice. It was so unfair, he thought. All that had changed was his confidence, his ability to fight back against all the people trying to kill him and his clothes. And yet Mr Weasley, who Harry had always looked up to and respected, had decided that this meant that he was no longer the Harry he knew. It was ridiculous.

"And here I was under the impression that you had always been a delinquent, Potter," Snape intoned. He had recovered from his shock, and decided to ignore that Harry knew about him and Bill, in the hope that the problem would go away. The Headmaster sent him a warning look before turning back to Harry.

"Well, my boy, it is clear to see that you have changed somewhat. Although I am sure that you are still the same Harry Potter I met three years ago," Dumbledore's twinkling eyes immediately put Harry at ease again. He wouldn't be taken from Sirius. Although how had he known that Harry was worried about being seen as a different person. Sometimes he could swear that the Headmaster could read minds.

"Oh! I just remembered," Harry began, stubbing his cigarette out in the ash tray, "I was wondering if there was a space I could practise my defence out of class, you know, to keep in shape and all that." To his dismay, Dumbledore frowned. It was Snape who spoke first, however.

"And why would you need to practise at all? You are hardly going to be fighting anyone anytime soon," he snapped bitterly.

"Oh, sorry," Harry bit back, "I didn't realise all the death eaters were going to drop dead of their own accord. And I suppose Tommy boy will stay a spirit forever, will he? Fucking hell, we're talking about the people who killed my parents! Who killed Ron's Uncles, drove Neville's parents to madness and left Sirius to rot in prison for thirteen years! The people who suckered kids like you, and like Regulus, into joining, only for you to find out that you'd just signed up to ruin your life. You can't really expect me not to bloody fight them, can you? Even if it wasn't for the fucking prophesy I'd still want to be out there, stopping the bastards from screwing up any more lives!" Harry was shouting by the end, gesturing wildly with his hands, unaware of the true reason for the shock on his teacher's faces.

"Please, sit," Dumbledore said, making Harry realise that he had jumped to his feet sometime during his rant. Slightly sheepishly, he retook his seat, glaring sullenly at the wall.

"How do you know all of this?" The Headmaster asked gently, the customary twinkle gone from his eyes. Harry looked at him, confused. Of all the questions he had expected, that wasn't one of them

"Sirius, of course," he said, wondering why this was so important, "he told me anything I wanted to know. Said I was old enough now to know the truth and to do what I thought was right with it." He couldn't stop a hint of pride showing in his voice as he said the last; Sirius was the first person in his life to have trusted him like that.

"I see," was all the answer he got for a minute before Dumbledore spoke again, "I will think about an appropriate space and let you know soon." Harry nodded, and, assuming that the conversation was over, stood to leave.

"Goodnight, professors," he said heading to the door.

"Oh, and Harry?" the Headmaster called as Harry was leaving, "Please try to tone down the swearing if you can. And I'm afraid that it's against school rules to smoke inside the castle."

Harry groaned as he made his way down the spiral staircase. It was going to be a long year.


	19. Chapter 19

Disclaimer: disclaimed.

A/N: Thank you, as always, to everyone who reads/reviews and who adds my story to their favourites/story alerts. All the support is greatly appreciated :)

Enjoy!

* * *

Dumbledore was worried.

This wasn't exactly an unusual occurrence, of course. Thinking back over his years as headmaster, especially since young Harry had come to the school, he could barely remember a time when he hadn't been worried about one thing or another. But rarely had there been a time when there were so many things weighing on his mind as there was now.

The Triwizard Tournament was one of the main worries, naturally. So much could go wrong, even with only the older students competing. They had taken the utmost measures to ensure the safety of the champions, of course, but Dumbledore couldn't shake the feeling that it just wasn't _enough. _They were just children, for crying out loud, being put in tasks that most adults wouldn't be able to do.

Speaking of children, Harry Potter was the second heaviest weight on his mind. He _knew _of course that it was still the same Harry who had shown such courage and kindness in the last three years, he had no qualms with that. Nor with how he dressed, or his new habits of smoking and swearing, much to some of his professor's disappointment. But he was a _child. _Only just fourteen. And yet he felt it was his duty to go out and fight and kill.

He wasn't being given a chance to be a child. To have a normal life, without the chaos that comes with the Death Eaters. Dumbledore wasn't a fool, he knew that the boy would have to be in the war at some point, would have to fight and kill. The prophesy made sure of that, no matter how they all wished it didn't. But _later. _When Harry had had a chance to live first, to laugh, to fall in love, even.

He wanted to blame Sirius for it, but he knew that the ex-convict was only doing what he thought was right, for both Harry and for the world. He had only done what Dumbledore himself had never had the courage for- told Harry the truth.

The old man sighed, standing up from his chair by the window to head to his bed chamber. It would do no good dwelling on it now- the morning would bring a new day after all, and a new adventure.

* * *

"Would you like a cup of tea, dear?" Mrs Weasley asked her husband as he sat at the table, having just come in from work.

"Yes, thank you," he answered wearily, grabbing the newspaper that lay in front of him and flicking it open to the front page. It was Harry and Sirius again on the front page. It almost always was, these days. This time it was another shot from the world cup; Harry looking almost feral, covered in blood and glaring at the camera and Sirius grinning like a lunatic at someone who was just out of shot. He sighed, glancing at the headline this time; 'Boy-Who-Lived Captures Death Eaters'.

"Worrying about Harry again?" his wife asked as she sat next to him, plonking cups of tea down in front of both of them.

"Boys his age shouldn't be living like that, Molly," he said sadly, "Sirius seems like a nice guy, but he's treating Harry like an adult, letting him do anything and everything he wants. Harry needs structure, a family."

"He has more of a family now than he did before, dear," Molly said quietly, "And while I don't deny that I would prefer him to be living with us, Sirius is his godfather. And while he is incredibly irresponsible, he's all that Harry has." Her tone was gentle but firm, and Arthur smiled; his wife was always so calm when it was just them alone, without any boys running around causing trouble.

"Maybe we can invite them for Christmas?" Molly suggested.

"Can't, they'll all be staying for the Yule Ball. We could invite Sirius though," Arthur said, wondering how his children had taken the news of the Triwizard Tournament.

"Yes, and perhaps he could bring that nice Remus Lupin, you know the one who was at Harry's birthday party? He was a lovely man, and he seemed so lonely."

"He did?" Arthur asked, surprised, "How so? He was always smiling and happy when I saw him."

"Oh, Arthur. He's probably spent the last thirteen years of his life all alone, poor dear. After all, he lost all of his closest friends in one night, and I dare say that being a werewolf makes it difficult to get close to people." Molly had tears in her eyes as she thought of how hard it must have been for the man; to lose everyone and have to grieve alone. Not to mention then having to scrape by for money for so long. She knew that she and Arthur weren't exactly rich, but at least they had each other and the children.

"Come on, dear, let's get to bed," Arthur said gently, seeing the look of distress on his wife's face, "We can send them both letters in the morning and invite them before they get any other plans."

"I love you, Arthur."

"I love you too, dear."

* * *

_To Moony, _Sirius wrote in a messy scribble at the top of a sheet of parchment, before pausing, sucking on the end of his quill as he thought. He frowned slightly at his untidy handwriting, but quickly shrugged it off; his parents' lessons had never made it any better, and being out of practise for thirteen years obviously wasn't going to do it any favours.

"What to say..." he mused. What he _wanted _to say was 'I know you're poor, so get your butt here and live off of my money', but he knew that Remus would just take that as charity and reject it on principle. Even it was the most sensible option.

"Does sir require anything?" Dobby squeaked from beside him. The elf had been a lifesaver over the holidays and Sirius couldn't help but think of him as a very strange, very helpful friend. Without Dobby he and Harry would have been living in a dump of a house all holiday, and he still would be. Kreacher wasn't any help, he just lurked in the attic all the time, muttering to himself.

"Nah, I'm good, mate. Isn't this your day off anyway?" he asked, smiling down at the over-eager elf.

"Yes, Mr Sirius, but Dobby was bored," he admitted, looking down at the floor sheepishly, hoping that his free time wasn't going to be taken away.

"Well, why don't you read a book or something?" Sirius asked, gesturing around himself at the books lining the walls of the library where he sat.

"House elfs aren't reading, sir, we don't know how," Dobby said, still looking shamefully at the floor.

"Shit, mate, sorry. I would offer to teach you but I think I'd be a bit rubbish at it... wait a minute..." Sirius's face lit up and he grinned down at Dobby. "You want to learn to read on your days off? Or I could even give you an extra day off for reading lessons if you want? Oh, and you could learn to write too, that kind of goes hand in hand with reading." Dobby looked up eagerly, his enormous eyes shining with hope.

"Sir would really do that?" he asked, wondering why he still felt surprised by the kindness of his new masters.

"Of course I would. In fact, it gives me the perfect excuse to invite a friend of mine to live here, he'll be great as a teacher for you," Sirius happily began scribbling on his parchment, leaving Dobby to stare in wonder around at all the books that he would soon be able to read.

* * *

Malfoy lay awake in his bed, glaring at the canopy above him. He had been made a fool of again. Not only that, but he had had to sit and endure the constant chatter of Pansy at the dinner table; she wouldn't shut up about Harry Bloody Potter and his mutt of a godfather. _Apparently _it was the gossip of the year. Most annoying thing of the year, more like, he thought bitterly to himself.

He was terrified of Potter, if he was honest with himself. The Gryffindor now knew his and Blaise's deepest secret, one that could get not only them, but also his Aunt Andy killed. He couldn't let that happen, not to the woman who had treated him like a son, letting him run to her house whenever the punishments got too harsh at home. And then, later, she had shown him Grimmauld Place, saying that it wasn't much, but it was a sanctuary if he ever needed one- not having Black blood, his father couldn't get in there without being invited. His father had never realised that he even knew his Aunt, let alone visited her, and his mother... well, his mother was usually too drunk to notice he was gone.

No, Aunt Andy had been his mother, and had even taken Blaise in as an honorary nephew. All of the happiest memories of his life were with the two of them; he couldn't have that taken away from him. And he _hated _the fact that the ability to have exactly that done now rested in the hands of his worst enemy. He had been planning all sorts this year, hundreds of humiliating pranks had been running through his mind all summer, all intended to get revenge on Potter for their run-ins over the summer. But now everything was different, and Potter had the upper hand.

Although, he thought, who would believe Potter even if he did tell them? Draco Malfoy, Prince of Slytherin and hater of muggleborns, running around the muggle world with a disgraced relative?

Perhaps the year wouldn't be a waste after all, he thought, a smile lighting up on his face as he turned over to finally get to sleep.


	20. Chapter 20

Disclaimer: not mine yadda yadda yadda.

A/N: As always, thank you to everyone for supporting the story.

If anybody has any constructive criticism, or just any pointers or anything, it would be greatly appreciated. I feel like my writing isn't really improving much lately, but I'm not sure what I'm doing wrong. So any help would be lovely :)

Oh, and a few events may be changed around from the original timeline- that doesn't mean anything as such, I may just be following the movie timeline in places, because it makes more sense in my head.

Enjoy!

* * *

Harry sighed as he took a seat at the back of the class. It was only Thursday on the first week of term, and he had already suffered through enough early mornings to last him a lifetime, or so he thought, anyway.

"So what d'ya reckon he'll be like?" Ron asked, leaning back in his chair to talk to Harry.

"Who? Moody? He used to be an Auror, so he should be alright I suppose," Harry shrugged, uninterested. He had Sirius to teach him this class anyway, so for once it wouldn't be terrible if they had a bad teacher. Everyone was busy chatting, just as Harry and Ron were, and so nobody noticed Moody sneak into the back of the classroom.

"CONSTANT VIGILANCE!" he roared. There were screams from some people, and Neville actually jumped out of chair, falling with a thump to the floor. Harry, however, had jumped from his seat instantly, snapped his wand into his hand and turned to face his 'attacker'. Flinging a stunner towards the man with one hand, he reached forward with the other and clasped his fingers around his throat. Moody dodged the stunner but wasn't expecting the physical attack and didn't have time to move as the fingers tightened around his windpipe.

"Harry! That's a professor!" Hermione squealed, her eyes wide with worry.

"Oh shit!" Harry exclaimed, allowing his eyes to settle on the man's face. He had been flickering his glance over his 'attacker's' body, searching for the wand he knew was there somewhere. Silently, Harry removed his hand and stepped back, scratching the back of his neck sheepishly.

"Sorry, Professor," he said, "I'll umm... just sit down again then, shall I?" Turning back to his seat, Harry discovered that the entire class was staring at him, some in shock, some in awe and a few with fear in their eyes. Ignoring them, he sat down, re-sheathing his wand as he did so.

"Potter, isn't it?" Moody asked, clunking to the front of the room where he stood, training both his magical and normal eye on Harry, who nodded feeling embarrassed. "Good. Well at least someone will survive a battle then." Several of the boys in the class raised their eyebrows indignantly and puffed up slightly in their seats. Moody just scowled at them and began his lesson.

"Right. First things first, you can put those books away," he growled, glaring around at them all, "you won't be needing them." There was an excited murmur across the class at this; if he would be teaching them practical lessons then he was sure to be good.

"So- straight into it. Curses." And so began Moody's lecture, with every member of the class hanging on his every word (though a few slipped occasionally to sneak a glance at Harry, wondering how he had reacted so quickly earlier). He showed them the Unforgivables- the imperius first, which caused laughter, though it was quickly replaced with scared silence. The cruciatus curse was next, which was only stopped when Hermione cried out. The killing curse was the last to be shown, though Harry never saw its effects as he stood and stormed from the room as soon as he saw the flash of green light. To everyone's surprise, Neville shakily got to his feet and followed him.

Once outside, Harry turned and punched a wall, growling slightly in anger.

"It's fucking sick," he spat out.

"I know," Neville whispered and Harry jumped, not having realised his friend had followed him out. He took a cigarette out of his jeans pocket and lit it with the end of his wand, having left his lighter in his dorm room.

"C'mon, Nev, let's go get some air," he said gruffly, his anger still evident in his voice. There was concern there as well though; concern for his friend whose parents had been stolen from him just as Harry's had.

Outside, they began walking down towards the lake, and they were almost there before either one of them spoke again.

"There was a prophecy, you know," Harry said softly, "that's why my parents were killed. Might be why yours were tortured. In fact, it probably was, if indirectly."

"What did it say?"

"That a boy born at the end of July would be the one with the ability to kill Tom. The only one. Well, it was a shitload more poetic and vague than that, but in essence, that's what it meant," Harry said as they reached the edge of the lake and sat down. He stubbed out his cigarette on the grass next to him and vanished its remains before turning to Neville to see how he was taking the news. The brown haired boy was frowning across the water.

"Gran always said that he would come back, one day, that he wasn't really gone. So it was one of us? I mean, it's you now, I guess," Neville said, not turning to look at Harry. The matter of fact way he said it made Harry wince slightly; perhaps he had overreacted when he heard it for the first time, though he didn't think Sirius had minded having Black family heirlooms thrown around the room.

"Yeah. Well, supposedly. I mean, if you believe in all that Divination crap. Personally I like to hope that we have more of a hand in our own fates, you know, free choice and all that. But fuck it, if everyone wants me to kill the old snake, then I will. The bastard deserves it, right?" Harry's tone was light, but Neville could see through it- he knew that it was torture to his friend to even consider killing anyone. Harry may have changed, but he had _not _changed that much.

"Of course. It's horrible that you have to do it though," Neville said, dragging his gaze from the water to the boy beside him.

"Yeah. But that's life, right? Gotta take a leaf out of Siri's book and look on the bright side."

"He does seem to be pretty happy all the time," Neville agreed, smiling.

"Yeah, although, to be honest, I've never known if it was looking on the bright side or if it was because he's drunk most of the time." Both boys laughed and the tension that had held both of them since seeing the curses diminished.

"Hey, how'd you do that to Moody, by the way?" Neville asked, causing Harry to grin sheepishly.

"I still can't believe I didn't get detention," he laughed, "But you'd be jumpy too if you'd had the summer I just had."

"How come?" Neville asked curiously, and Harry jumped at the chance to explain. He told Neville about Sirius teaching him defence, new spells and how to punch. He told him about the fights and the pubs and the two girls and one boy who had fallen onto his lips (although they had nothing to do with what had happened, Harry couldn't bring himself to leave them out). He told about the pranks Sirius had pulled on him, and how he had retaliated. And Neville smiled and laughed the whole way through, amazed at how open Harry was being. Neville had never been in the inner circle of Harry's friends, always somewhat pushed to the side and forgotten. But he had been invited to the other boy's birthday party, and then to the World Cup with the Weasley's. And now Harry was confiding in him, just as a real friend would do.

For the first time in his life, Neville felt that he finally may have found somewhere he belonged, and people he belonged to.

* * *

Barty Crouch Jr. chugged another dose of Polyjuice potion from his hip flask and scowled viciously, causing several first years to run quickly past him, not looking back as they fled. He carried on clunking down the corridor, though he had no destination in mind.

He couldn't stop playing the afternoon's events over in his mind. Potter having him at wand point, just because he had shouted. The boy was too paranoid, his reflexes too well honed. The Dark Lord did not want him to be able to display this level of skill, and somebody would surely be punished when he found out. With any luck, it would only be Wormtail.

And then the two boys storming out of class. He had wanted to hold the Longbottom boy back, knowing that he would be a useful ally, even if the boy had no idea he was being used as such.

But no, now he would need to come up with another plan. He needed to hurry- the year would pass quickly, and the Dark Lord _must _have the boy. Barty wouldn't fail, no matter how many obstacles Potter tried to throw in his path.


	21. Chapter 21

Disclaimer: If I owned Harry Potter it would be a lot less child- friendly. So it's probably a good thing that I don't.

A/N: Yay! Over a hundred story alerts, and over 50 faves and reviews :D As promised, if anyone is interested in a bonus chapter then I will be happy to write one. Just leave ideas in the reviews :) Or, if you have no ideas, but still want me to write something, then tell me and I'll write up one of my own ideas :D.

As always, thank you so much for all the support. Life is hectic at the minute (I swear I need a nine day week to get everything I need to done. Or a time turner. That would be useful), so I'm sorry if I'm taking a while to write.

Also, if anyone wants to recommend a good fic to me, then that would be nice. I read pretty much any pairing in Harry Potter, so long as it's written well. :)

This chapter was rewritten twice, but I think I finally like it. So, Enjoy!

(And sorry about the extra long author's note. And sorry about making it longer with this apology...)

* * *

"Legilimens," Snape hissed for the umpteenth time that evening. And just like every other time, Harry felt the probe entering his mind, pulling forth memory after memory. Being chased by Dudley and his gang. Being yelled at by his Uncle Vernon. Meeting Malfoy on the train in first year. Being kicked out of his aunt and uncle's home. And Harry tried and tried to push the unwanted probe away, but to no avail. Then the probe was gone and Harry came back to himself, panting as though he had been running a race.

"Clearly you are proud of your worst memories, Potter, as you are seem so keen on allowing me to see them," Snape said silkily, though a hint of frustration snuck its way into his voice. Harry glanced up from where he was slouched on the floor and chuckled darkly.

"Oh, trust me _sir, _those are far from my worst memories. I fucking wish they were my worst memories, but I'm Harry Bloody Potter, aren't I, and people just love throwing shit at me," Harry snarled. The constant attacks on his mind had made him irritable, not that any extra annoyance was needed to put him in a bad mood when Snape was in the room.

"If it's my worst memories you're after though, fucking have at it, sir!" Hauling himself to his feet, he faced his teacher and he bowed mockingly. Harry half expected Snape to throw him out of the classroom, but to his surprise the older man took his challenge.

"Legilimens," he whispered and Harry felt yet another probe entering his mind. This time though, the probe lingered in the front of his mind, as though waiting to be shown something. So Harry began throwing all of his worst memories at the unwanted presence, jumping slightly when they began playing in his mind. Being thrown into his cupboard as a child and left there for days. Meeting Voldemort in his first year and fighting Quirrell. Being locked in his room that summer and starved. Seeing Hermione petrified in second year, and then killing the basilisk. Thinking Ginny was dead. The dementors last year- how they made him hear his parent's deaths. Sirius being caught by the ministry. And lastly, his earliest memory- a flash of green light and a high, cold laugh.

Snape jerked back from the memories hurriedly, his usual sneer gone from his face, which had paled several shades. Harry smirked cruelly, _serves the bastard right, _he thought. Out loud he said nothing, waiting for his professor's reaction.

"Get out," Snape muttered, before turning and storming from the room in a billow of robes.

"Occlumency didn't go well then?" Ron asked when Harry entered the common room with his head in his hands.

"Was there ever a chance that it was going to go well, with that git teaching me?" he said, slumping into an armchair by the fire and rifling through his pockets for a cigarette. It was past midnight and Ron and Hermione were the only ones left in the common room, obviously having waited up for Harry to come back. Hermione was curled up on the sofa with a book in her hands, whilst Ron was stretched out on the floor in front of the dying fire.

"I know Professor Snape isn't the best of teachers, but surely you must have learned something?" Hermione tutted, looking up from her book to fix Harry with a stern glare which reminded him all too much of Professor McGonagall.

"I learnt how to piss him off," Harry grinned weakly, lighting his cigarette.

"You can't smoke in here, Harry! In fact, I still don't like you smoking at all! You'll end up with lung cancer like my Aunt Mary had!" Hermione snapped.

"Actually, wizards don't get cancer, 'Mione," Harry answered with a grin. He could always rely on her to be the one to worry about him.

"It's true, we don't," Ron piped up from the floor when he sensed that Hermione was going to argue, "Our magic wards off anything like that naturally- I don't think there's a single muggle disease that we can get. Well, aside from the common cold that is. That bastard gets everywhere."

"Language, Ronald!" Hermione scolded with a glare.

"But Harry always swears!" Ro whined, looking up at his friend in disbelief.

"Yes, and Harry's guardian lets him, for some reason. _Your _mother, however, wouldn't be too pleased to hear that word coming out of your mouth," she answered primly, closing her book and standing up, "Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm off to bed." Harry and Ron watched her go with bemused expressions.

"Mental, that one," Ron muttered fondly as he clambered off of the floor, "You coming, Harry?"

"Yeah, I'm just gonna call Sirius on the mirrors first."

"'Kay, night."

* * *

Elsewhere in the castle, another dark-haired man was sitting awake in his sitting room. He was sat in a grey, high backed arm chair with a glass of amber liquid in one hand. He stared into the dying embers of the fire, but his eyes were glazed over, his mind on something else.

The boy's experiences as a child... they were so like his own, and yet nothing like them at the same time. His father had been abusive, whereas Harry's relative's had simply neglected and ignored him. How was it that the Boy Who Lived, son of James and Lily Potter and saviour of the wizarding world had been allowed to live like that? Snape had assumed that his relatives treated him as their own child, lavishing him with love and affection, the kind of affection that Snape himself had never had.

That was why he had hated him, after all. He had assumed that the boy would just be another arrogant toe rag like his father, and so had taken it upon himself to bring him down a peg or two. But he had been wrong. Wrong to treat Harry so badly over the years, to yell and sneer and hate the boy so much.

This must have been what Albus had meant when he said they would find some common ground. But what could Severus do about it now? The damage had been done, and his pride would always stop him from apologising; it just wasn't in his nature. He had said sorry to two people in his life; Lily Evans and Albus Dumbledore. Did he really want to bring the son of his childhood enemy into that list?

He chuckled to himself, taking a sip from his glass, as he thought of the expression on the boy's face if the bat of the dungeon were to say sorry. Perhaps it would be worth the damage to his pride just for that alone.

"Occlumency," he whispered to himself suddenly, as the thought of the perfect apology leapt into his mind. If it could be called an apology, seeing as it didn't actually involve apologising. But no, it would have to do.

Plan in mind, he stood from his chair and crossed to his desk, where he scribbled off a quick letter.

"Tinky!" he called, and an elf popped into the room. She wore a long, clean pillowcase that had been fashioned into a toga and her eyes were bright blue- an unusual colour for a house elf.

"Yes, Master Severus, how cans I help you?" she squeaked, smiling up at her master.

"Can you please take this to the owlery and send it off immediately, Tinky," Snape asked, handing her the letter. Nodding vigorously, the elf popped out again and Snape retook his seat by the fire with a grim smile. His apology would arrive in the morning, and he would just have to pray that the boy was Slytherin enough to recognise it for what it was.


	22. Chapter 22

Disclaimer: I own a cat called Einstein and ten million old sketchbooks but not this.

A/N: Thanks for all the continuing support, it really means a lot :) Enjoy the new chapter!

* * *

"Harry! Have you heard the news?" Harry blearily looked up from his breakfast to see the enormous brown hair of one of his best friends bounding towards him. It was first thing in the morning on Sunday and the hall was almost empty, with everyone but Harry and a few Hufflepuffs still in bed.

"News?" he mumbled as he tried (and failed) to scoop some egg onto his fork.

"Yes, Harry, the news! Why are you up so early anyway?" Hermione asked as she slammed a pile of books onto the table next to her and began spreading jam on a piece of toast.

"Not up early, love. 'M up late," Harry said through a mouth of pumpkin juice (which was laced with fire whiskey, but he felt no need to tell Hermione that).

"Up late? Honestly, Harry, what have you been doing all night? You better not have lost us any house points!" Hermione scolded, forgetting all about her news in the light of her friend breaking the rules.

"Nev got me an invite to a Puff party. Puff's party hard, 'Mione," Harry groaned, giving up on breakfast and letting his head fall to the table. He rummaged blindly in his pocket for a second before pulling out a cigarette and lighting it with his wand.

"A _what _party?" Hermione asked, grabbing the cigarette from Harry's hand and stubbing it out on the table.

"Puff," Harry pouted, staring forlornly at the scorched mark on the table where his nicotine fix had been removed.

"Puff?"

"Puff!"

"Well if you aren't going to be sensible," Hermione huffed, turning away from him.

"Bu' I am being sensible, 'Mione! A Puff party! You know- the Hufflepuffs!" Harry gestured to the table across the hall where, sure enough, the few Hufflepuffs there were looking rather worse for wear, "Honestly, smartest witch of our age my ass," he muttered into the table where his head was still slouched.

"The Hufflepuffs... party?" Hermione asked with a bemused expression on her face.

"Yuh huh."

"Huh. Anyway, do you want to hear the news or not?" she asked.

"Yuh huh."

"Are you even listening to me, Harry?"

"Yuh huh."

"Fine. Find out from someone else then," Hermione huffed and, grabbing her books from the table, she stormed off out of the Great Hall, just as Draco Malfoy walked through the door.

Draco took in the scene with interest. There were four people left in the hall after Granger's dramatic exit. Three were Hufflepuffs who were all poking at their food with little interest; seemingly too busy trying to keep their eyes open. And the fourth was at the Gryffindor table, though who it was wasn't too clear as the boy was slumped face forward on the table, so all that could be seen was a head of messy black hair.

"Messy hair... _Potter,_" Draco whispered to himself gleefully. Silently, he crept up behind the boy, his smirk widening when he heard the soft sounds of snoring. Quickly, before anyone else came into the hall (for the Hufflepuff's were quite clearly too out of it to notice anything around them, and so didn't count as witnesses), he muttered a spell and hurried away to his own table.

"Have fun meeting our guests like that, Potter," he mumbled to his breakfast, allowing a happy grin to grace his features for a second before his trademark sneer was back.

* * *

_Thunk._

Groaning, Harry awoke to the sound of giggling and a sharp pain in his skull. Opening his eyes, he found himself still at the breakfast table with what appeared to be egg stuck to his face.

"Harry," a voice laughed from his left, "You're supposed to eat the food, you know? Not use it as a pillow." It was Ginny Weasley, he realised with a sigh. He didn't need hero worship this time of the morning.

"Ha bloody ha," he grumbled sitting up and looking around for the cause of the pain in his head. The hall had filled up considerably and an awful lot of people were looking at him in odd, and often amused, manners. Ignoring them all, he spotted a parcel next to him on the table.

"The owl wouldn't let any of us take it, but got bored of waiting for you to wake up, so it dropped it on your head," Neville, who was sitting on his right, explained.

"Huh," Harry mumbled. Ripping the brown paper off, he found, to his dismay, a book. He had been hoping that the package had contained sweets, though there was no logical reason for him to think so. Sighing, he read the title, which immediately made him sit up straight. _Occlumency for Beginners. _Was this from... Snape, he wondered incredulously.

He cast his eyes up to the almost empty staff table just in time to see the man in question incline his head slightly in Harry's direction, before he stood and left the hall.

"Well fuck me," he muttered.

"Not with that hair," a voice drawled from behind him and he turned to see Malfoy standing behind him without his usual bodyguards, but with an amused looking Blaise in tow. Harry was about to tell him to bugger off when he realised what the blonde had said.

"My hair? Oh fuck me, I didn't accidentally dye it again, did I?" he mumbled, hurriedly grabbing a spoon and peering at himself in the reflection. Sure enough, his hair was a different colour, but that wasn't the worst of his problems. His usually pitch black, messy hair was now green and silver, and slicked back to his head in a style that was all too reminiscent of a certain blonde. A certain blonde who was right now standing behind Harry.

"You fucking did _what? _You stupid wanker, you're worse than bloody Sirius!" he exploded, jumping up from his seat and glaring daggers at Malfoy.

"That's for my father, _Potter,_" he hissed. Harry paused for a second, confused. Why did he always have to bring Lucy into absolutely everything? Snapping out of it, he stepped forward, pushing his face right into Malfoy's, causing the blonde's sneer to waver.

"That's right, little boy. I forgot Daddy couldn't fight his own battles. And how proud he'll be that you pranked Harry Potter. Of course, I bet he'd be prouder if you killed a few muggles, but-" Harry didn't get any further as Draco's fist shot up, colliding with Harry's mouth. Harry staggered backwards, hitting the table and touched his lip where Malfoy had hit him. His fingers came back with blood on them and he grinned, a small laugh escaping his lips. And then a bigger laugh slipped out, and in seconds Harry was in hysterics, blood dripping from his mouth as he doubled over in laughter. The crowd that had formed weren't sure whether or not they should be laughing as well; Harry, after all, looked ridiculous in fits of laughter, with green and silver slicked back hair, but he also looked disturbed, which made many students feel more than slightly uneasy.

"Finally, Malfoy! Finally you're fucking fighting back! It's about time, mate, I was beginning to despair of you!" Harry chortled when he had gotten control over himself once more, though a wide grin still sat on his face, splitting the cut on his lip wider.

"What's going on here?" The gruff voice of Mad-Eye Moody sailed across the crowd of students that had gathered around the pair.

"Oh, nothing much, Professor," Harry said innocently, turning his back on Malfoy to face Moody. The students parted for the ex-Auror, but Harry didn't notice this as the second he turned away, he felt something graze past his ear.

_Bang!_

Startled, Harry spun around just in time to see Malfoy disappear and a tiny, white ferret take his place. For a second, he just stared at the ferret, and the ferret stared back at Harry. But then what had happened clunked into place and Harry turned on Moody with a snarl.

"You have no fucking right, old man," he sneered, advancing on his professor, "I can fight my own battles, if you hadn't noticed. Turn the bastard back!" The last was yelled- an order, and the entire room fell silent, even Moody was too shocked to speak. Harry was shaking in anger even as a distant part of his mind told him that he was being irrational, that Moody had simply been trying to help. He quenched the voice though, his lack of sleep making him even easier to wind up than usual.

"Turn him back," he repeated in a low voice when Moody still hadn't moved. The ex-auror shivered and took a swig from his hip flask before raising his wand and performing the spell to turn Malfoy back into a human.

"My office tomorrow night, Potter," Moody grunted, already clunking his way out of the hall, "When you've calmed down a bit."


	23. Chapter 23

Disclaimer: Nuh uh, not mine.

A/N: Sorry if this is a little long coming, my laptop charger broke :( So I had to write by hand and then quickly write it up whilst borrowing my sister's charger. So the bad news is, there may be a few spelling mistakes that I missed.

The good news is that without the internet to distract me, I have been getting a lot more done and so am halfway through writing the next chapter already, so with any luck that will be finished and up soon.

Thanks as always for all the support, your reviews never cease to make me smile :)

Enjoy!

* * *

Harry scowled as he yanked the front of his beanie down, trying to hide his lightning scar. He, Hermione, Ron and Neville had spent the better part of the previous day attempting to fix his hair, but to no avail. They had despaired at around midnight however, and Harry had been all ready to skive the next day's lessons in order to spend more time trying to undo the hex, until Hermione had finally gotten around to telling him her news. Of _course _Malfoy had had to choose the day before the other schools arrived to piss around with Harry's hair. Any other day just wouldn't have been quite embarrassing enough.

And so it was that Harry had ended up stood in the crowd of students waiting for the visitors wearing a black beanie that did not, to his dismay, quite cover his scar.

"Harry, mate!" Ron called, walking up behind Harry with Hermione and Neville in tow, "We've been looking for you everywhere!" Harry turned and opened his mouth to respond, but didn't get the chance as he was interrupted by a dreamy voice to his left.

"I can fix that for you, if you want," it said. The speaker was a petite girl with long, blonde hair, and she was looking pointedly at Harry's beanie. "I mean, unless you like it that way," she added thoughtfully, idly playing with the butter beer top necklace around her neck.

"You can?" Harry near squealed in excitement, "Fuck yes!" He punched the air, attracting the attention of several people around him who looked on in bemusement. Most, however, had grown used to the antics of the new Harry Potter over the last month, and were trying their hardest to ignore him, lest they get dragged into some insanity.

"How? We tried all yesterday, and I looked through all the books I could think of..." Hermione seemed torn between being indignant, that a student younger than her new something that she did not, and eagerness for new knowledge.

"It's quite simple, really," the girl answered absently, fixing Hermione with a piercing stare for a second before turning back to Harry, "Of course, I'll have to ask the nargles for some help, but that should be alright- they really like you, you know." Harry cocked an eyebrow, wondering what on earth a nargle was and how it could help his hair.

"Ok then... Can you do it now then? Or do we have to like, wait 'til later when we can find some of these nargles?" He asked, praying that he didn't have to wait too long- his beanie was _really _starting to itch.

"Oh, the nargles are already here," the girl leaned forward to add, conspiratorially, "They're everywhere, you know." Behind Harry, he heard Ron stifle a snigger, and Hermione tut and mutter something that sounded distinctly like 'honestly'. Harry himself grinned openly- he liekd this girl already.

"Cool. Let's get to it then," Harry said, whipping off his beanie. The girl quirked her eyebrow and smiled.

"Well, usually I get to know a guy before I get to it with them, but I suppose I can make one exception." Harry chuckled and she pulled her wand from behind her ear and pointed it towards his head, muttering under her breath. After thirty seconds of muttering, Harry's hair began to stick up out of its slicked back style and after a minute his roots began to darken to black. After a minute and a half of allowing the strange girl to cast spells on him, Harry suddenly began to doubt the wisdom of his decision. This could, of course, have been because the blonde suddenly had a very mischievous look on her face.

"Wait! His hair wasn't like that before!" Hermione screeched and Harry began to panic, reaching up to feel his hair with both hands. He breathed a sigh of relief when he felt that a) he still had hair and b) it wasn't slicked back anymore but frowned when he felt that it was c) a hell of a lot longer than it had been before. He opened his mouth to protest but was once again cut off before he could begin.

"I always knew you'd look good with long hair," the blonde girl said with a dreamy smile before turning and skipping off into the crowd.

"Bu-... Wh-..." Harry spluttered for a minute before a terrifying though crossed his mind. Holding a few strands of his shoulder- length hair gingerly, he turned to Ron and Hermione with a pained expression on his face.

"Guys," he began, "We've been friends a long time and I trust you more than anyone to tell me the truth. So I'm going to trust you to be honest with me on this. How much do I look like Sirius right now?"

"Too much, Potter," a silky purr said from behind him, "In fact, if it weren't for your eyes I would swear that your father and Black had had a lovechild." Ron choked slightly at this, gaping between the two of them in horror.

"I suppose it's lucky for me that I have my mother's eyes then, else I don't think you would have been able to control yourself and you would have probably killed me on sight," Harry grinned cheekily, ignoring the whispered reprimands from Hermione. Snape's expression was indecipherable when he spoke.

"Indeed. Now, if we could stop this chit chat and turn to greet our guests, Mr Potter. We do not, after all, wish to appear inhospitable now, do we?" And with that he swept away to retake his place by the headmaster's side.

What the bloody hell was all that about, mate?" Ron asked as soon as the professor was out of earshot.

"I'll tell you later," Harry chuckled, redirecting his attention to the grounds where, sure enough, an enormous, powder blue carriage was landing in front of the crowd of students. Seconds later, a Hagrid- sized woman (although she was far slimmer than he was) stepped out and made her way towards the headmaster a gaggle of mostly blonde and mostly gorgeous girls following her.

"I think I should have gone to Beauxbatons," Harry said to Ron with a grin. Ron nodded absently, his eyes following the girls as they made their way into the entrance hall. Hermione tutted and hmphed, crossing her arms over her chest in annoyance.

"You're beautiful too, Hermione," Harry reassured her with a grin, "I just have a thing about blondes lately. Ron on the other hand," here Harry leant in to whisper in her ear, "has always rather liked intelligent brunettes."

"What are you two whispering about?" Ron suddenly asked, looking between them suspiciously. At Ron's words, Hermione had leapt back, a red blush covering her face at the implication of Harry's words. Harry himself turned calmly to face his oblivious friend and winked.

"Oh... A bit of this and that, mate," he drawled, grinning, "Come on, if we keep chatting we'll miss the other wankers arriving. Fuck I want a cigarette," he added absently, wondering if the teachers would mind. After only a second's consideration, he decided that not only would they most likely mind very much, but McGonagall might hang him for giving a bad impression of the school, Boy-Who-Lived or not.

After five minutes of restless waiting, one of the students spotted something in the lake and the entire school watched as a boat sprung up from underwater. The students from Durmstrang, Harry supposed as they headed towards them, were just as handsome as the girls from Beauxbatons had been (although in very different ways) but they did not, unfortunately, satisfy his recent blonde fetish as well as the French did. He was snapped out of his thoughts by Ron whispering "Krum, Harry! Viktor Krum!" Harry rolled his eyes and grinned at his excited friend, dragging him after the foreign students who were heading into the Great Hall.

When they arrived inside, however, Harry was annoyed to see Malfoy looking smug as the famous Seeker took a seat opposite him. Glancing around, he saw the girls from Beauxbatons beginning to head towards the Ravenclaw table and quickly moved to intercept them.

"Mademoiselle," he greeted the blonde at the head of the group, "My name is Harry Potter and it is an honour to have you all as guests in our school." He shook his now long, shaggy hair out of his eyes and grinned charmingly at her before bowing his head to kiss her hand. "Would you like to join me and my friends for dinner?" The girl smiled and glanced back at her classmates for confirmation, many of whom were tittering about the dashing boy.

"We would be delighted, 'Arry," she answered throatily before following him back to the Gryffindor table where she sat between him and Seamus as the rest of her classmates scattered themselves between the Hogwarts students. Harry was happy to note that although Malfoy was still chatting to Krum, the smug look had disappeared and the blonde was sending occasional glares in his direction.

It seemed like only minutes had passed before it was time to go to bed- the feast was over and the Triwizard cup had been unveiled.


	24. Chapter 24

Disclaimer: I own an apple, but not this.

A/N: Gah. I _really _wanted to get this up last night for you all, but my sister was being mean and not letting me use her laptop charger, and my new one still hasn't arrived in the post yet. But, she's out right now, so I was sneaky and stole it :O So apologies for the slight delay :)

And I promise I won't do this all the time (I hate people who answer reviews in chapters- so much scrolling!) but to Nia: Thank you so so much for all your wonderful reviews, and I will write a bonus chapter especially for you (nobody else wanted one :O), and I would be answering you via e-mail, but there was no e-mail address where you said there would be one... if that makes sense. But yeah, if you send me your e-mail in private message or summat, I will be sure to answer you more fully :D Your reviews really made my day :3

Anyway! Thanks as always to all reviewers, readers, subscribers and favourite-ers. And I hope you enjoy the chapter!

* * *

"'Mione," Harry whispered as he approached her table in the library, "I need to ask your advice on something." Hermione looked up from her book wearily, casting her eyes over her friend to take in his latest way to blatantly disregard the school uniform. Sure enough, he was in his trademark ripped jeans, dragon skin boots and a sleeveless red tee with the name of some band printed over it. He had kept his hair long after the blonde girl had 'fixed it' for him, and was that... eyeliner? She reigned in a comment; this had surely been Fleur's idea- she was always encouraging Harry's more flamboyant tendencies.

"I suppose," she eventually answered, already itching to get back to her reading.

"Okay, so, you know Tommy's only like... a spirit or whatever?"

"Yes..." Inwardly, she groaned. Anything involving Voldemort, or 'Tommy', as Harry had dubbed him, was sure to end badly.

"Well, do you reckon he'd still get an owl addressed to him?" Hermione stared at her friend incredulously, wondering if she had actually heard that right.

"Why, exactly, do you want to know?" she asked carefully.

"So I can send him a bloody letter, 'Mione, why else?" Harry answered with a grin to soften his words, though Hermione still adopted an annoyed frown from being sworn at.

"And what do you want to write to the most evil wizard of the century for?" She asked icily. Harry leaned back in his chair with a grin on his face.

"Well, mostly it's just going to be lists of other people who are called Tom. And I was going to send him a French dictionary, 'cos Fleur told me something pretty funny about his name the other day. Other than that, I was just going to ask him how he's doing, what he's up to, you know. Tell him how nice it is to have a body and not have to put up with Pettigrew all the time. Just like, bug him, you know?"

"You want to bug the dark lord?" Hermione screeched.

* * *

"And remember," Harry told the small contingent of owls in front of him, "As soon as you've dropped the letters off, fly away _really_ quickly, got it?" they all hooted back and Harry grinned. Standing to attention, he snapped off a salute to the owls who hooted one last time before flying out of the owlery and into the night sky.

"Well, isn't this cute," an all too familiar voice drawled from behind Harry and he groaned, already groping around in his jacket pockets to find his hip flask- something told him that he would have to be drunk to put up with Malfoy at this time of night. "Ickle Potter talking to the owls."

"Just get to the fucking point, Malfoy," Harry snapped, "You insult me, I insult you, and we both go to bed."

"No, I don't think I will, actually," Malfoy said softly, smugly almost, and he took a step closer to Harry. The two boys stared at each other in silence for what seemed like a lifetime- Malfoy's expression was indecipherable, but Harry was clearly bored and growing for annoyed by the minute. Harry was about to give up and leave when the blonde spoke suddenly.

"Why'd you get Moody to turn me back into a human?" Harry opened his mouth to answer, but the questions kept coming. It seemed that Malfoy had opened a floodgate that was unwilling to close again anytime soon. "And why did you give me and Blaise our stuff back? And why didn't you tell anyone? And why did you flirt with me on the train, and why were you civil to Blaise and why were you at Grimmauld Place, and why haven't you had my father arrested yet and why-"

"Fuck, Malfoy, one at a time or I won't answer a bloody thing," Harry said, taking a swig from his hip flask and automatically offering it to Malfoy. To his surprise, the blonde took it with a trembling hand and took a large gulp before handing it back. Harry eyed the other boy with renewed interest, suddenly realising that he had never seen Malfoy like this before, never seen him with so many of his barriers down. He couldn't help but wonder what had happened to the cruel boy he usually was.

"Come on then," he said after he had finished his inspection, "Hurry the fuck up. First question."

"Why'd you tell Moody to turn me back? After what I did to you, I deserved it, surely." Harry rolled his eyes- he had had to answer this question hundreds of times since the incident, although he had never offered his professor an explanation. Neither had mentioned his failure to turn up to Moody's office, which Harry found curious- most professors would have given him detention for that.

"Because of exactly that. What _you _did to _me_. That bloody psycho had nothing to do with it- aside from his position as a professor. And I don't think transfiguring students is one of the official punishments. It was _my _fucking fight, and he had no place sticking his nose in." Malfoy nodded slowly, seeming to accept the answer as the truth before moving on to his other queries.

"And giving me and Blaise our stuff back?"He asked the question quietly, as though afraid somebody would hear and punish him for it. Harry shrugged.

"I felt bad for looking at it all. It was kind of an impulse thing, I guess," Harry cocked his head and took another drink from his flask, "Plus, you were pretty cute as a kid." Malfoy sneered at this, but it lacked the usual venom. It crossed Harry's mind very briefly that he was having a civil (albeit slightly drunken) conversation with his worst school enemy, but he dismissed the thought rather quickly, knowing that it was only a matter of time before they started screaming at each other again.

"Why were you at Grimmauld Place then?" Malfoy asked, deliberately forgetting that he'd ever asked about Harry's flirting on the train and skipping onto the next question.

"I live there," Harry replied shortly, taking a large gulp of fireshiskey.

"I thought you lived with muggles though?" Malfoy frowned.

"I did. They kicked me out. So now I live with Siri. Next question," he added quickly when he saw the blonde open his mouth- probably to either ask why he was kicked out, or to mock Sirius. Neither was a conversation that he particularly wanted to have.

"You fought my father at the World Cup. Why haven't you just had him arrested already?" The blonde's voice was soft as he asked his final question, remembering the hurt he had felt when he realised why his father had really taken him to the Quidditch cup. Harry scoffed, the alcohol lowering his sanity just enough that he didn't see the danger in insulting Lucius Malfoy in front of his son.

"Yeah, 'cos that would do a whole lot of fucking good, wouldn't it? The inbred tosser would just throw some of his money around and be let off the hook in a few hours, at the very most. Fucking Lucy-"

Whatever else Harry was going to say was lost as Malfoy's fist rammed into his gut, causing him to double over. He recovered himself quickly, however and, ignoring the pain, he launched himself forward, slamming the blonde into the wall behind him, pinning him there by his throat. How long they stood there, panting heavily with their bodies' mere centimetres apart, neither knew. Neither spoke- all the insults that they would usually throw at each other seemed to have been knocked from their minds and all they could do was stare into each other eyes, each surprised by the amount of anger and hate they found there. At some point, however, Harry flicked his gaze downwards and noticed, through the haze of alcohol and pain that was muddling his brain, just how close their lips were. He floundered for a second, gaze resting on Malfoy's plump lower lip, before he made his decision.

"Fuck it," he muttered, before slamming his lips to Malfoy's, capturing that plump lower lip into a bruising kiss that took both of their breath away. The blonde boy froze for a terrible second, but Harry persisted and the second passed quickly, the ferocity of the kiss overwhelming both boys until all thoughts, good or bad, had gone from their minds. Malfoy's arms wrapped around Harry's back, and Harry's hands were in Malfoy's hair, teasing it from loose in a way that some dim part of his mind knew would make the blonde look even sexier. Then Harry pulled away from the kiss and a wave of fear ran through Malfoy, but it was immediately assuaged as he felt a trail of bites and kisses being planted down his neck.

"Draco," Harry murmured, just loud enough to be heard and the Slytherin froze. _What was he doing_, he thought. _What the hell was he doing? _And then, _father will kill me- and him. _Sharply, he pushed Harry off of him, surprising the other boy so much that he fell backwards and landed on the floor, staring confusedly up at Malfoy. Who promptly fled without a single glance back.

Harry groaned as he pulled himself up from the owl-dropping covered floor, unable to form a single coherent thought. It was only once he had dragged his feet back to Gryffindor tower (so distracted that he didn't even bother to check the map) that he managed to put the words he needed together:

_What the bloody fuck had just happened?_


	25. Chapter 25

Disclaimer: I own a newly bought Kindle, but not this.

A/N: First off, thank you very much for all of the reviews on the last chapter. Especially the ones saying 'OMG why'd you make it GAY?" These ones made me laugh so much because I have already told you all that Harry was going to be gay, I've hinted at the Harry/Draco pairing more times than I can count and really, how could this Harry _not _be gay? This is the final warning for those who still don't realise that there will be homosexuals in my story: there will be.

And thank you for all the nice ones too, they made me smile lots :3

I'm not sure how soon the next chapter will be up, as I have work, and then college, and then babysitting, and then college work that I'm behind on and then actually getting some sleep at some point and then work again ¬¬ But I will try and write between other things and with any luck it will be up within the next week.

Anyway, sorry about the long A/N and I hope you enjoy the chapter :)

EDIT: I am SOSO sorry about how long this took to upload. I've been trying to put it up for the last few weeks, but every time I tried an error message came up. But here it is, finally! I hope it was worth the wait :)

* * *

Draco avoided Harry completely from that day forward, even going so far as to take all of his meals in the kitchens. He turned up to any lessons they shared at least five minutes late, earning several detentions but avoiding having to look at, sit near, or have anything to do with Harry. This all, of course, raised many suspicions within his housemates, and many of the staff were keeping their eyes on him, wary of any mischief. Malfoy fended off any enquiries from his peers with a snarl and a few choice words, which had scared most away from asking a second time.

Harry, for his part, was doing a good job at ignoring all of the hurt he felt at the rejection and throwing himself into Quidditch, drinking and, to everyone's eternal surprise, studying. What he was studying was a mystery to all but Ron, Hermione and Neville, as they were the only ones whom Harry had entrusted with the knowledge of his Occlumency lessons. With all the extra effort he was progressing very well, and could now block Snape's probes nine times out of ten. He had also been reading through the Marauder's animagus notes, although this usually involved having to call Sirius on the mirrors and asking him to decipher the handwriting.

And so the next couple of weeks passed in relative peace for the two boys, and before long it was Halloween, and the choosing of the champions was upon them at last. The atmosphere was tense and excited in the Great Hall, and even Harry couldn't deny that he was interested to see who was picked. Of course, saying he was interested didn't mean that it stopped him from sneaking glances at the Slytherin table whenever he could. Viktor Krum was chosen first, to nobody's surprise, and he was quickly followed by Fleur Delacour, whom Harry wolf-whistled, causing her to blush as she left the hall. Cedric Diggory was chosen as Hogwarts champion. Harry hadn't had a chance to speak to him much since the World Cup, but the older boy grinned and waved at them as he passed. But then-

"Harry Potter!" Dumbledore's voice rang out across the room, causing everyone to go deathly silent before turning as one to stare at Harry, who was sat in his chair with an expression of shock, which quickly gave way to anger.

"That had better have been a really bad fucking joke, Dumbledore," he called, struggling to keep his anger out of his voice, but not quite succeeding. Several staff members and the ministry officials looked shocked and offended at his lack of respect but Dumbledore himself took no notice, staring worriedly at the angry boy.

"I assure you, my dear boy, it is not," he answered calmly, although his troubled expression betrayed his true feelings far too easily, "Now, if you would-"

"No! This is fucking bullshit! How the bloody hell did my name come out of that goblet when I didn't put it in there?"

"You did not put your name in?" Snape's silky purr asked, before Harry could work himself up into a rant. The potions professor knew from their private lessons that once Harry got going like that, not much could stop him. "You did not, perhaps, ask an older student to put it in for you?"

"What? No, fuck no! I never wanted anything to do with your pissing tournament- I have enough attempts on my life already without bloody volunteering myself for some!" Harry looked around him, taking in the sea of faces staring back at him. Ignoring the majority of them, he focused on the three closest to him- Ron, Hermione and Neville. Neville looked worried, Hermione confused, and Ron seemed to be torn between anger and concern.

"You guys believe me, right?" he asked, not bothering to keep his voice down. Hermione and Neville nodded fervently, both too shy to speak in front of the entire school. Ron frowned sulkily and looked away.

"If you didn't put your name in, then how'd it get it?" he asked.

"I don't bloody know! Anyone could have done it- for all I know fucking Moody could have put it in there, my Defence teachers do have a habit of trying to kill me." All eyes went to Moody at this point, who scowled back at the lot of them before nervously taking a gulp from his hip flask. The accusation against his defence teacher seemed to snap Dumbledore out of his passivity, and he stepped forward, arms up in a calming gesture.

"Harry, if we could step out of the hall we can discuss this further," he said. Unfortunately, the students of Hogwarts (and those of the visiting schools) did not take kindly to being denied their entertainment, not to mention the gossip. They all began chattering as one, some yelling that they wanted Harry to stay, some yelling that he was lying (although these mainly came from the Slytherin table), and some just yelling at everyone else to shut up so that they could hear what was going on.

Harry scowled viciously- he knew that the only way to make himself heard now was by going with Dumbledore, and he hated being cooperative, especially at a time like this.

"Fucking- Pissing goblet- bet Tommy had something to bloody do with- fuck- shit, I hate my life sometimes-" Harry muttered disjointedly as he stormed out of the hall and into the small chamber where the other champions still stood waiting, wondering what the yelling in the hall was all about.

"'Arry?" Fleur asked throatily as he walked through the door, "Do zey want us out there again?" Harry closed his eyes and tried to get a hold on his anger before answering her. It would do no good to lose his friends over this.

"My name came out of the goblet after Cedric's did," he said plainly, hurriedly continuing as he saw their expressions begin to turn slightly ugly, "But I never bloody put my name in. Someone else must have fucking done it."

"But, 'Arry, 'oo would do such a thing?" Fleur asked, crossing the room in two elegant strides and pulling the younger boy into a hug. It was at that moment that Dumbledore entered the room, followed by Ludo Bagman, Barty Crouch Sr., Madame Maxine, Karkaroff, Moody and Snape.

"You can't make him compete, sir," Cedric piped up immediately, "He's not old enough- it's way too dangerous for a fourth year. No offence, mate."

"Pfft, none taken. It's too fucking dangerous for anyone, if you ask me," Harry replied darkly, lighting a cigarette and blowing smoke into Moody's face, who just happened to be nearest.

"The Goblet of Fire constitutes a binding magical contract, Dumbledore. His name came out, and so he must compete," Crouch said, causing uproar in the small room. Fleur began babbling very quickly in French, all the while holding Harry to her side, while Cedric began to rant about how dangerous it was. Viktor Krum simply stood darkly in a corner, glaring at everyone, an action that was repeated by Snape across the room. Madame Maxine and Karkaroff bleated that it was unfair that Hogwarts had two champions, and argued with the two men from the ministry about whether or not they could draw more names. Dumbledore and Moody both simply stared piercingly at Harry, although one gaze was malicious and the other worried. Harry, for his past, stood happily (or, as happily as one could be in this situation) pressed to Fleur's side and smoked, occasionally letting loose a stream of swear words, until after five minutes he had had enough.

"Oh, just shut the fuck up!" he yelled, silencing the room easily, "I'm not competing in your pissy little tournament, so you can all go fuck yourselves." For a second, the adults looked as though they would begin arguing again, but Fleur tightened her grip around Harry and began pulling him out of the room.

"Come, 'Arry, you can stay with Beauxbatons tonight," they heard her say as they left. Harry turned and sent a smirk back at Snape, who rolled his eyes. Cedric soon followed, muttering an apology about having to get back to his housemates, and Viktor stomped out not long after. The adults were left staring at each other in disbelief, wondering how such a simple idea had gone so wrong.

* * *

Later that night...

"Wait a minute... Fleur!" Harry called up from where he was lying in a sleeping bag, on the floor next to Fleur's bed.

"Yes, 'Arry," she answered sleepily.

"Did Dumbledore say something about being exempt from end of year exams if I compete?"

"Yes, 'Arry."

"Oh, fuck yes!"


	26. Chapter 26

Disclaimer: If I was making money from this, it would be written a lot faster with less spelling mistakes. But I'm not.

A/N: As always, thank you so so much everyone who reviewed, subscribed, favourited, or even took the time to read this story.

Enjoy the chapter!

* * *

"You WHAT?" Harry winced as Sirius's voice rang from the mirror, scaring off a few ducks that had been happily sat on the lake. It was early in the morning after the night of the Halloween feast and Harry had woken up in Fleur's dorm with a burning need to talk to his godfather about everything that had happened. So he had snuck out of the Beauxbatons carriage so as not to wake any of the foreign students and called Dobby on his way down to the lake, asking the elf to pop up to his dorm room and bring down a cloak and his mirror.

"I know, Pads mate, it's fucked up, right?" Harry answered glumly.

"What- I mean- shit- what are you going to do about it?" Sirius spluttered, running a hand through his messy black hair.

"I don't have a fucking clue! I mean, this tournament shit is simple enough to deal with- but Malfoy?" Harry sighed, "What the fuck was I- _am I_- thinking?"

"Yeah, you know what, pup, you never did tell me why you thought the tournament was going to be simple. You distracted me by kissing Malfoy."

"Oh, well I was just gonna piss about, you know? I figure it's only gonna be dangerous if I actually wanted to complete the tasks or whatever, so I'm just gonna sit at the beginning line." Sirius breathed a sigh of relief, and allowed himself to grin at his godson.

"That's alright then, pup, I was terrified you were going to have some stupid idea like going in there with that bloody sword you bought and trying to hack whatever was attacking you to pieces..." He trailed off as he saw the gleam in his godson's eyes. "Don't even think about it, Harry." Sirius growled. "I don't have a problem with you fighting when you need to, you know that, but if you fucking dare deliberately put yourself in that kind of danger-"

"Calm it, Siri, I'm not gonna fight. Anyway, how's Moony?"

"Blossoming," Sirius grinned, allowing himself to be distracted for the time being, "I finally managed to make him go shopping with me, so I've got him out of those tatty robes, and him and Tonks have been getting on pretty damn well." Harry chuckled, happy that his ex-professor was well looked after.

"And the Wolfsbane that 'Mione's been sending him is working alright, isn't it?" It had been only two weeks into the school year when Harry had had the idea; his bushy haired genius friend had managed to brew Polyjuice over a toilet in their second year, after all, and so why shouldn't she be able to brew Wolfsbane?

"Perfect, although he still says that he needs to pay both of you back for it."

"Oh, tell him to fuck off. I have more than enough money for the ingredients, and 'Mione's just glad to get the chance to brew something so challenging." Sirius laughed.

"I'll tell him that, pup. I've gotta piss off now though, some guy from a magazine called the Quibbler is coming over for an interview."

"Shit, that stuff's still going on? Unlucky, mate," Harry waved and turned off his mirror with a quick tap of his wand.

Well, he thought to himself as he climbed to his feet and headed off to breakfast, it was time to face the music.

* * *

Whispering started up as soon as he entered the Great Hall and he stood awkwardly in the doorway for a moment, all of his newfound confidence forgotten as he flashed back to his second year where whispers followed him everywhere he went. Luckily, he was quickly saved by Cedric, who stood up and called him over to the Hufflepuff table, causing even louder whispers to break out among the rest of the student populace.

"Cheers, mate," he said gratefully as he hurriedly slipped into the empty seat next to his fellow champion, "Not sure I'm all that welcome at the Gryffindor table right now." Sure enough, when they looked over, Ron was glaring at Harry even as he shoved forkfuls of food messily into his mouth. Hermione was sitting next to him, but it was clear from her body language that she wasn't talking to him. When she caught Harry's eye, she waved and smiled worriedly, which Harry returned with a grin and a mouthed 'talk later', which seemed to placate her for the time being.

"Why's he so annoyed at you? He can't really think you'd enter the tournament yourself, can he?" Cedric's question drew Harry's thoughts away from the comfort of Hermione and back onto the hurt that Ron was causing him. He frowned across the tables at the red head as he answered.

"Bloody better not, the stupid prat. I don't have a clue what his problem is, to be honest. Wanker," Harry muttered moodily, picking at a piece of toast.

"Well, Hufflepuff's on your side, at least. And looks like most of Gryffindor is, there's just a few like Ron. A lot of the Ravenclaw's are undecided, and I don't think you ever had a chance with the Slytherin's, eh?" Cedric grinned cheekily, not realising that his comment had caused Harry to think of the one Slytherin that he hoped he actually did have a chance with.

"I fucking hate my life," he groaned as he let his head fall to the table with a thump.

"They'll all come around, mate. Ron too. He's a Weasley after all- they might have some flaws, but they're good people. Don't worry about it. Anyway, have fun in Fleur's dorm last night?" Cedric waggled his eyebrows suggestively, successfully getting a snort of laughter out of Harry.

"I wish. I think she's more into older guys than younger though."

"Shame," Cedric looked disappointed for a moment before suddenly brightening up, "What about her friends?"

* * *

It was purely by accident that Harry ran into Draco that evening. Or perhaps ran away from would be the better way to describe it. He was on his way down to the dungeons for his Occlumency lesson with Snape when he heard laughter echoing down the corridor, and footsteps coming quickly towards him.

"Father says that Potter won't last ten minutes in this tournament!" A voice was saying, as several others guffawed and chuckled, "Of course, I told him that I was hoping he wouldn't last five!" The voice joined in with the laughter this time, and Harry simultaneously felt a flash of anger and a sinking feeling in the bottom of his stomach. _Malfoy. _Of _course _it had to be Malfoy, because nothing was better than running into the one person that Harry truly didn't want to see at that moment. As he had told Sirius just that morning (was it really only that morning? It seems like weeks ago that he had sat by the lake, free from the whispers that had followed him all day) Malfoy did nothing but confuse him, and after the day that he had just endured, he wanted nothing more than to be attacked repeatedly by his potions professor before going to bed.

But no. Draco bloody Malfoy just _had _to be walking down the hall, taking the piss out of Harry, at that very second. Gritting his teeth, Harry quickly backtracked and threw himself behind a suit of armour. It was the best he could come up with at such short notice, so to compensate he stood as still as possible as the footsteps drew nearer.

And then Malfoy was passing by, without a glance in Harry's direction, with Crabbe and Goyle following behind him. Harry had just let out the breath he had been holding when Blaise walked past, trailing a metre or so behind the group. In his mind, the Gryffindor said a silent prayer that Blaise wouldn't turn and see him, but it seemed that luck wasn't with him tonight.

"Harry, how nice to see you here," the Slytherin boy smirked, glancing ahead to make sure the others hadn't noticed his absence.

"Likewise," Harry grumbled, following Blaise's gaze and glaring at Malfoy's back.

"He's been very vocal about hating you lately, you know. More so than usual, I mean. Especially today. One would almost think he was compensating for something."

And with that, the Slytherin was gone, leaving Harry to extract himself from behind the suit of armour and walk dazedly to Snape's office, his mind a whir with the other boy's words.


	27. Chapter 27

Disclaimer: not mine.

A/N: Thank you very very much to everyone who had read/reviewed/subscribed/favourited this story. It really means a lot to me :D

There is now a 'bonus chapter' entitled 'The Peeves Incident' in my stories now. I posted it as a one-shot because I didn't want to interrupt the flow of this story. It might be rewritten/reworked at some point if I have time, but for now any constructive crit/whatever is appreciated.

There may be spelling mistakes in this, as I just typed it out really quickly because I wanted to get it all posted and everything before I go to the pub. Which is in, oh, about 5 minutes or so. Good timing, eh?

Enjoy!

* * *

"Today," Moody's growling voice called from the front of the classroom where he stood, wand out and eye whirling, "We will be looking at the imperius curse. Everyone stand up." With many sideways glances at each other the class obeyed and Moody swept his wand through the air, causing the student's desks and bags to slide to the edges of the room, leaving a large space free in the centre. Many students looked apprehensive, but some looked excited- they hadn't had a good practical lesson since Professor Lupin had left.

"Now, line up at the back of the room. One by one, your name will be called and you will step forward into the centre of the room. I'll then place the imperius curse on you and we'll see if any of you can fight it. Any questions?" He said all of this so quickly that most of the class was still processing what it was he had actually said, and so by the time they had finished figuring that out he would have moved on with the lesson and they wouldn't be able to complain. That had been the plan anyway, but the ex-auror didn't plan for Hermione, who had her hand up in the air before he'd even finished speaking. Sometimes she still amazed Harry with her intelligence.

"But, sir, that's illegal!" she exclaimed, without waiting to be asked. Harry's eyebrows shot up into his hairline- she was right, use of an unforgiveable was a one way ticket to Azkaban. What was Moody thinking of?

"Miss Granger, do I look like I care about what's legal and what isn't? I care about teaching you to defend yourselves, and it is easier to defend yourself against this curse if you know what it feels like. And Dumbledore agrees with me, so don't even try it. If you don't like it, you're free to leave." Hermione, of course, stayed exactly where she was (although a small pout appeared on her lips and a frown on her forehead) and though Harry briefly considered walking out just to annoy Moody he decided against it and the entire class stayed still.

"Right. We'll have Miss Patil first then," Moody gestured for Parvati to step forward and though she was trembling slightly her head was held high as she did so. She was a Gryffindor, after all, and she had her House's reputation to uphold.

"Imperio," Moody hissed and a blank look spread across the girl's face before she started flapping her arms and squawking like a chicken. A few people laughed but most stood in stony silence, minds awash with the terrifying possibilities of the curse. Just hearing about it was one thing, but seeing it used on a girl they knew well made it so much more real, and so much more horrible. Harry slid his wand out of his holster and into his hand, where he gripped it so hard that his knuckles went white. The entire time Parvati was under the curse, he had to fight with himself not to just storm forward and hex Moody, but after what seemed like an eternity to him (although it was more in the realm of half a minute) Moody lifted the curse and Harry breathed a sigh of relief. In next to no time Parvati was back to normal, although a look of mortification spread across her face as she hurriedly moved to stand at the back of the room with her classmates.

And so it was that Harry stood and watched each of his fellow students be controlled, be violated, by the teacher. Every single one of them failed to fight the curse, and so Harry wasn't exactly feeling confident when, with only three of them left, his name was finally called. Like Parvati though, he upheld Gryffindor's reputation of bravery and stepped forward casually, as though he wasn't about to allow a man whom, whatever Dumbledore and Sirius had to say on the matter, he really didn't trust put an illegal curse on him.

Standing right in front of Moody, he mustered all of his confidence and looked his professor square in the eyes. Well, eye anyway, as his magical eye was wandering around the room. What Harry saw there surprised him- for a second he could have sworn that he saw eagerness shining in that good eye, but then the second was over and the look was gone, leaving Harry feeling even more apprehensive than he had before. Moody must have noticed this as he smirked faintly.

"Ready, boy?" he asked, not realising that he was saying both the worst and the best thing he could possibly have said to Harry at that moment. There was nothing that riled Harry up more than being called 'boy'- he had had quite enough of that when he was living with the Dursley's, and he wasn't about to put up with it from Moody. Straightening his back so that he stood at his full height, he towered over Moody with a grip on his wand so tight that it almost hurt. He allowed a nasty smirk to play around his lips.

"Oh, I'm always ready for you, love," he drawled in his best imitation of Draco Malfoy at his worst. The ex-auror scowled and his eyes hardened as he raised his wand.

"Imperio," he spat out, and Harry had only a second to notice the pure glee in his professor's expression before a wave of calm settled over him.

_Fall over backwards... _a voice whispered to him and for half a second he obeyed, swaying dangerously back. But then what he liked to call his 'inner Sirius' kicked in, as it always seemed to in a fight, and his mind was screaming at the voice, pushing it away. All of a sudden the calm feeling was gone and Moody's face swam into view in front of him. Without even stopping to consider what he was doing, let alone to consider the consequences of it, Harry pulled his fist back before slamming it into Moody's face. His knuckles screamed in protest, but the professor flew backwards, hitting into his desk and almost dropping to the floor. His magical ye was spinning wildly, but his normal one found Harry's and there was such hatred, such malice there that Harry took an involuntary step backwards.

Looking back on the scene later, he would realise that there were only three clear thoughts in his head at that moment; there's something wrong with Moody, I really want a smoke, and there's _really _something wrong with Moody. He floundered for a second as his professor spat blood out of his mouth and the class continued to hold their collective breath, but then Moody began to straighten up and Harry made his decision.

_Dumbledore. _Acting quickly, he turned and stormed out of the room.

Laughs, whispers and taunting remarks followed him as he stomped through the castle towards the headmaster's office- clearly the few students out of lessons were Harry haters, and not afraid of showing it. Only the supreme importance of his getting to Dumbledore's office quickly stopped him from beating the living daylights out of some of the more vocal students. But as it was, he simply snarled at them and carried on his school robes billowing out behind him in a manner that Snape himself would be proud of. Of course, Snape would likely be less proud of the dragon skin boots and skin tight, tattered jeans and tee that he wore underneath, but what Snape didn't know couldn't hurt him. Unless he didn't know a Death Eater was behind him. That could possibly hurt him.

It took Harry fifteen minutes to reach the gargoyle, by which time class had finished and the corridors flooded with students. Many strange looks were directed his way as he attempted to guess the password, but after ten minutes of embarrassing himself he got it right (sugar quills) and was allowed through. He rushed up to the office, taking the stairs two at a time and barrelled straight into Dumbledore's office without pausing to knock.

"Professor, I need to talk to you," he burst out, before pausing as he saw who was in front of the headmaster's desk. "Pads? Moony? What are you guys doing here?"

"Oh, err... you'll find out when you're older, pup," Sirius finally said, scratching the back of his head sheepishly.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Harry asked, trying with all his might not to link this to Dudley asking his mum about sex and Petunia answering with 'I'll tell you when you're older'. He _really _didn't want to go down that train of thought.

"You wished to talk to me, Harry?" Dumbledore cut in calmly, successfully diverting Harry's attention.

"Oh, yeah. There's something wrong with Moody." Harry allowed himself to be distracted, but there was no way he was going to forget about this. They had unwittingly just presented Harry with a mystery, which was possibly one of his favourite things to be presented with.

"That's _Professor _Moody, Harry, and I know that you and he do not get along but-"

"No, sir, this isn't about that. Today, in class, he put us all under the imperius curse and-"

"He WHAT?" Remus interrupted Harry, his face a mask of shock and disgust, "He put you all under an unforgiveable? What the hell is he thinking?"

"It's alright, mate, we knew he was going to do it," Sirius gestured to himself and Dumbledore, "the only way to learn to fight it is to experience it and-"

"Look, that doesn't even matter, although a little warning next time we're going to have illegal fucking curses put on us might be nice," Harry snapped, glaring at Sirius who had the grace to look slightly ashamed of himself. "What matters is that he bloody enjoyed it- I saw it in the bastard's eyes. He _liked _putting that curse on people, liked having that control. He was positively fucking gleeful when he put it on me. Now tell me there's nothing wrong with him." Sirius and Remus looked vaguely sick, and the twinkly had disappeared completely from Dumbledore's eyes.

"Are you sure, Harry?" Remus asked.

"Of course I'm bloody sure!" Harry exclaimed, exasperated, "I don't know what it is, but there's something wrong with that man!" Sirius's face paled suddenly and he turned horrified eyes to the headmaster.

"Didn't you tell me the other week that Snape had potions ingredients missing? _Please _tell me that they weren't the ingredients for oh, say, Polyjuice?" There was a pause as his words sunk in and then Dumbledore was up from his seat, wand already in his hand.

"Harry, go and find Severus, tell him to get the veritaserum and then bring him to the defence classroom. Sirius, Remus, with me," he barked before sweeping out of the room, leaving the others to hurry along in his wake.


	28. Chapter 28

Disclaimer: I know you all think I own Harry Potter, but I assure you, it's all a vicious rumour.

A/N: Blimey. Long chapter, this one. Sorry updates have been few and far between lately but I am ridiculously busy. For example, I now have two weeks off college for easter holidays, but do I get a break? Nope, I get extra hours at work and a final project to work on. -.- Oh well, that's enough whining from me. Don't worry, I'm manning up as I type this.

Thank you as always to everyone who reads/reviews/favourites/subscribes. It really does mean a hell of a lot to me.

Oh, and I've changed the ending of the bonus chapter... hopefully it's funnier now.

Enjoy!

* * *

Harry was gasping for air by the time he reached the potions classroom. He burst in without thought (he seemed to be making a habit of that today), but was brought up short when he found an entire classroom of eyes staring at him.

"Mr Potter, nice of you to join us finally," Snape's silky drawl said from the front of the room, but Harry ignored him.

"Dumbledore sent me, said to bring veritaserum up to the defence classroom," he panted, taking no notice of the stares of his classmates and focusing on the professor, willing the man to move quickly. But Snape hadn't moved, merely raising one eyebrow, questioning Harry with his eyes. "Hurry the fuck up!" Harry finally exclaimed, before turning and beginning the run back up to the defence classroom. He really ought to be fitter than this, he thought idly as he got a stitch in his side. Hurried footsteps behind him told him that the professor had taken the hint, or at the very least was trying to catch up with Harry to give him detention. Either way, it would get him where he was needed, so Harry wasn't really fussy which it was.

The door to Moody's classroom was closed when Harry reached it, and he turned and put his finger to his lips in a shushing gesture as he heard Snape's footsteps halt behind him. Slowly pulling his wand from his holster, Harry crept forwards, nudging the door open slightly with his foot. There was no sound from within, but surely Dumbledore, Sirius and Remus had already arrived? There was a scuffling noise and Harry barely contained a gasp of surprise. Steeling himself, he edged into the room, Snape following behind him with a confused look on his face.

The room was a mess. Desks were turned over, papers were ripped and scattered across the floor and the sneak-o-scope from Moody's desk was shattered, fragments of broken glass strewn amongst the other debris. But there was no Dumbledore, no Sirius, no Remus; not even Moody was present in his own classroom.

"The office," Snape whispered and again Harry had to stifle a gasp. Did that man just make no noise at all when he walked?

"Where?" Harry mouthed back. His professor just rolled his eyes before walking silently but purposefully across the room to the only other door. Harry pouted, there was no need for him to be so... Snape about it. The potions master meanwhile was busy rapping himself over the head with his wand. Before Harry's eyes the older man disappeared, only a slight haze in the air betraying his presence. The Gryffindor scowled.

"Show off," he muttered. There was a ripple in the air and the door was flung wide open. _Bloody Snape..._ Harry thought as he hurriedly pointed his wand at the door. He had become so wound up on his way down to and up from the dungeons that he was half-expecting to find Moody standing over three bodies. But instead he found himself (and Snape too, he supposed, although the wand wielders weren't aware of it) at wand point. Three wand points, to be precise.

The inert form of Alastor Moody was slumped in a corner, a thin trickle of blood winding through the scars on his forehead and a blue-black bruise around his eye from Harry's fist. A second form of Alastor Moody was sat in a chair, with a blanket around his shoulders and a wand pointing at Harry. This moody was even more dishevelled than that first (unlikely though that seemed) with tufts of hair missing and an empty eye socket. The other two wands were those of Albus Dumbledore and Remus Lupin, both of whom had wary looks on their faces.

"Have you completed your task?" Dumbledore asked, fixing Harry with a piercing gaze and keeping his wand trained on the young Gryffindor.

"'Course," Harry replied, his eyes narrowing, "He's right..." _Damn. _Snape was still invisible. Of _course _they'd be cautious if he came back without the man he was sent to retrieve; they already had evidence of one imposter right in front of them, it wasn't too farfetched to think there might be another one. "Snape, stop making me look like a Death Eater in disguise and take that bloody spell off, damnit." For a second, nothing happened but then the air rippled between the three men and Harry and the intimidating potions professor appeared. Remus visibly sighed with relief and Dumbledore smiled slightly before lowering his wand.

"You have the veritaserum?" he asked, to which Snape nodded curtly. "Excellent. Sirius is fetching Madam Pomfrey as Alastor- The real Alastor that is- is in need of medical care." Moody snorted- evidently calling the mediwitch had not been his idea.

"How was the imposter found, headmaster?" Snape asked, attempting to appear nonchalant but failing to hide his curiosity.

"Harry," Dumbledore explained simply, a twinkle in his eyes. Snape, on the other hand, did not have a twinkle in his eyes as he rolled them at Harry.

"And how, pray tell, did you do it this time?" he asked, exasperation at the boy's uncanny ability to find trouble clear in his voice.

"I know the look a person gets when they're enjoying hurting someone. Years of Dudley and Voldemort have taught me that much at least," Harry drawled bitterly, glaring down at the imposter, "And that... _thing _fucking loved putting the imperious curse on me. All in the name of education, of course." Snape nodded curtly once more, his expression darkening.

"Dudley?" A voice asked from behind them. It was Sirius of course, out of breath with an equally panting Madam Pomfrey behind him. "What's Dudley got to do with it? What did that fat shit do to you, Harry?" Harry inwardly cursed himself; he'd been doing so well at not mentioning the Dursley's and what shits they were to Sirius, not wanting his godfather to make a big thing of it. He'd simply left it at 'they kicked me out', and so far Sirius had been so happy to be able to spend time with his godson that he hadn't asked further. Luckily, Dumbledore saved Harry, for now at least.

"I'm afraid that conversation may have to wait for another time, Sirius. We have an imposter to deal with at the moment," he said gently, gesturing towards the man on the floor. Everybody, bar Madam Pomfrey who was attempting to force a potion down the real Moody's throat, turned to look at him. The Polyjuice was beginning to wear off, and they all stared with morbid fascination as the imposter's visage began to bubble and change. He stretched out, becoming both thinner and taller than he had been before and his shoulder length hair receded back into his scalp at a rapid pace. Scars faded from his face and his chin became more pointed. The magical eye popped out and rolled across the floor and the wooden leg was pushed off as the real leg grew back in. It was disgusting to watch, but within minutes a young, sandy haired man with a disturbing similarity to Mr Crouch appeared.

"Barty Crouch Jr.," Moody spat out, swatting away Madam Pomfrey's continued attempts to fuss over him.

"He died," Sirius whispered, "I saw them take his body away. I saw them bury him." Harry looked at his godfather with concern; his time in Azkaban had been another of those things that they simply hadn't spoken about. This time, it was mainly because Harry hated the look Sirius got when he thought of that place. Sure enough the usually bubble man's eyes had taken on a haunted look and he appeared to have aged ten years in less than a minute. He stopped standing up so straight, his confidence draining out of him, and a shiver passed over the ex-convict's frame. Many people wondered why Sirius was so sane and happy after thirteen years in that place, and many others attributed his good mood to having Harry back in his life, but the truth was that he simply didn't think about it. He had pushed the experience away deep into the recesses of his mind, ignoring the last thirteen years and instead reverting back to how he had been before his arrest. It was only at times like this that Harry remembered how much it had affected his godfather.

Without a word, Harry moved across the room to stand behind Sirius, placing a hand on the older man's shoulder and squeezing slightly, silently showing his support. Dumbledore watched the two with a grave expression, guilt bearing heavy on his mind. How could he have not pushed for a trial? But no, there were more pressing matters to attend to right now- he could wallow in guilt later, when the mystery was solved and his students were safe.

"Severus, the veritaserum, if you will," he said quietly. Snape nodded jerkily and silently pulled a tiny vial of clear liquid from the folds of his robes. It was one of many potions that he always carried around with him, for one could never know when they might be useful. Very carefully, he let three drops of the potion fall onto the unconscious man's tongue and stepped back again, reclaiming his place at the doorway. Before Dumbledore could enervate the imposter, Remus spoke.

"You should be disillusioned when he awakes, Severus. Just in case." Harry looked confusedly between the two but the professor merely nodded in agreement before rapping himself over the head with his wand again. When Snape had again disappeared from view, the headmaster stepped into the centre of the room and, with a muttered 'enervate', awoke Barty Crouch Jr.

"What is your name?" Dumbledore's voice sounded cold and commanding and his eyes flashed with disgust as he looked down at the young man on the floor. Harry realised for the first time why Voldemort and his Death Eaters were afraid of Dumbledore- he wasn't always the omniscient grandfather figure that Harry knew.

"Bartemius Crouch Jr." the man said, his expression strangely blank. It looked similar to the effects of the imperius curse, Harry thought with no little satisfaction.

The questioning went on for over an hour before Sirius snapped and stunned the young Death Eater. He had told them everything. He, Pettigrew and Voldemort had attacked and kidnapped Mad-Eye Moody, put the imperius curse on Crouch Sr., infiltrated Hogwarts, put Harry's name in the Goblet of Fire and made sure that he would be made a champion. They had planned to use the disguise of Moody to gain Harry's trust and guide him into winning the tournament, at which point the Triwizard cup would be turned into a portkey to take Harry to Voldemort. The Dark Lord would then use Harry's blood to rise again. Trelawney's prophecy swam through Harry's mind; _'more powerful than ever before..."_

"We need to call the Aurors," Remus said breaking the silence and interrupting Harry's brooding thoughts. Remus's voice sounded calm, but you could easily see signs of his agitation in the wand that was gripped tightly and in the flash of amber that shot through his eyes. It was Sirius who, after a moment's hesitation, sent a patronus to the Aurors, telling the silvery dog to go straight to Kingsley and ask him to bring back up.

"Anyone mind if I smoke?" Harry asked as everyone stood around, waiting. Not even Madam Pomfrey paid him any attention; she was in too much shock to reprimand such a bad habit. Shrugging slightly, Harry lit a cigarette, taking a deep drag and trying to calm his temper.

_That bastard was going to use me... use my blood... fuck... I will not be responsible for that bloody shit coming back..._

They all waited in silence for the Aurors to arrive, during which time Snape took off the disillusionment spell and Madam Pomfrey, having managed to force Moody to take his potions, excused herself to return to her office where a large gin and tonic awaited her.

To say that Kingsley and the accompanying Aurors were shocked to see Crouch Jr would be an understatement, but with hurried professionalism they whisked him off to the ministry. Dumbledore and Moody accompanied them to give statements- the rest of them were told that if their accounts were needed then they would be called on the next day. Before long it was only Harry, Sirius, Remus and Snape left in the room.

Sirius moved first, letting out a great breath of air and running his hand through his hair.

"I need a fucking drink. Pub, anyone?" he asked, receiving grateful nods from Remus and Harry (who had conveniently forgotten that he was a student and therefore not allowed off school grounds to go to the pub).

"You coming, professor?" Harry asked as they turned to leave. It was a measure of just how shocked and exhausted they all were that Snape agreed and Sirius didn't complain.

Perhaps there was hope for some people after all.

"I was going anyway," Snape said silkily as he swept out of the door.

Perhaps not, then.


	29. Chapter 29

Disclaimer: I own the rights to Lord of the Rings, but not Harry Potter. (Just kidding, we all know that I only own Twilight.)

A/N: This chapter kind of wrote itself, so I hope it's alright :)

Thanks as always to those couple of you who always review, it honestly makes me happy to know that at least a few of you are following the story through :D And thanks to everyone else who reads/subscribes/favourites :)

Oh, and I put a note on my profile about this, but I doubt anyone actually reads it so I'll ask here as well. Can people send me links or whatever to any good, original fan fics? I read mainly Harry Potter, but if you know of one from a different fandom that is brilliant, then message it to me anyway. I don't care about pairings or length or anything- so long as it's well written I'll read almost anything. I also don't care if you send me your own stories for me to read- shameless self promotion is not something I frown upon :P Just so long as it's good and _original_ I don't care :) But yeah, that would be a great help, thanks!

Enjoy!

* * *

"So who's going to be teaching us defence?" Hermione asked, chewing her bottom lip worriedly. They were in the common room, hogging the seats by the fire and Harry had just finished telling her, Ron and Neville about what had happened with Moody and the imposter. The three boys rolled their eyes- of course that was the first thing she thought of to worry about, not the plot for Voldemort to rise again but the lesson.

"Not sure yet. Me and Siri and Remus went up to see Dumbledore this morning to see what was going on, and he asked Siri to teach us for a few months, if you can believe it," Harry chuckled, remembering his godfather's face of shock. No-one in their right mind would _ever _put that man in any sort of authority position.

"Not bloody likely," Ron snorted.

"Didn't he teach you tons of defence over the holidays though, Harry?" Neville asked thoughtfully.

"Yeah, he's a decent enough teacher when he feels like it. It's more the fact that a) he would never get up early enough to get to lessons on time and b) he'd spend all his time in lessons docking points from Slytherin. Huh, might not be such a bad idea then." Hermione hmphed, annoyed at their lack of interest in their studies.

"So he didn't say anything about anyone else then?" she asked.

"Nah. By the looks of it we're gonna be doing some independent study shit for a few months before the real Moody's recovered enough to teach," Harry answered. Hermione's eyes lit up and Ron stifled a groan.

"Independent study? Like, a project or something? Ohhh, I wonder what I should do it on. I mean, there are so many different directions you could go with something like that, especially if they don't set you any guidelines..."

Harry fished out a cigarette from his jeans pocket and lit it, trying with all his might to tune his best friend out.

"... oh, I'm going to go to the library!" she finally finished, almost five minutes later, jumping up and bounding out of the common room.

"Jeez, I thought she'd never go," Ron grumbled. Harry and Neville exchanged a glance, grinning.

"Oh come on, mate, we all know you fancy her," Harry said, laughing.

"What? I don't... what?" Ron spluttered, his face reddening.

"It's true, Ron. We've all known for ages. Even Professor Snape probably knows," Neville said smiling.

"But... oh, shit," Ron said.

* * *

"Harry!" a voice called down the corridor along which Harry was wandering, hip flask in hand and one eye on the marauder's map. Hastily, he stuffed the map into his jeans pocket and turned to meet Cedric who was hurrying towards him.

"Hey, Ced," Harry called, taking a swig of firewhiskey.

"Christ Harry, are you drinking again?" Cedric asked, exasperated, when he noticed the hip flask, "You know, as a prefect I should really confiscate that."

"If you don't confiscate it, I'll share," Harry tried, slurring his words slightly.

"Sure," Cedric answered, taking a drink, "Anyway, I was just gonna go meet Fleur and Viktor down by the lake, they said if I saw you on the way to bring you along too."

"Oh. 'Kay. They say why?" Harry asked, confused. He was good friends with Fleur these days, but he had barely spoken to the Durmstrang champion and he hadn't realised that Cedric was on speaking terms with either of them. After all, for him they were 'the enemy' and all that.

"They didn't say, but I think it's got something to do with the first task."

"Shit, I forgot about that," Harry said, shaking his head at his own forgetfulness.

"How can you forget about the first task? It's like, a week away!" Cedric exclaimed, his eyes fairly bulging out of his head.

"I, dunno, Ced, I mean I know the tournament's all important for you and everything, but I really don't care about the fucking thing. You heard about the Moody thing- I'm only entered because some psycho wanted to use me to bring Tommy back."

"Tommy?" Cedric asked, confused.

"Yeah, Voldie's real name is Tom. He told me in second year."

"What? He told you? How the hell did You-Know-Who tell you anything in second year? I thought he was like, dead or whatever?"

"Nah, he never died. Hagrid once told me he's not human enough to be able to die, and I reckon he's about right on that. But yeah, second year..." The story of the Chamber of Secrets lasted them all the way out into the grounds, and by the time they found the other two champions sitting by the lake Cedric was speechless.

"Fleur my love, you look intelligent as always," The part-Veela laughed out loud as the younger boy took her hand in his own, covering it with kisses. Harry had long since found that compliments to her appearance did nothing for Fleur- she was far too used to them, and always wished to be noticed for something other than her beauty. Harry was never one to say no to a pretty lady, especially one with hair the _exact _same colour as Malfoy's, and so he made a point to notice as least one of her lesser known qualities every time he saw her. "Krum, mate."

"'Arry," nodded Krum, before looking at Cedric, "Iz 'e okay?" Harry turned to Cedric, chuckling as he saw the older boy's face still fixed in an expression of shock and amazement. It seemed that the tale of the chamber hadn't been so widely publicised as Harry had assumed.

"Oh, I just told him a story. I think he needs to process it a bit more, and then he'll be fine," Harry said, plopping himself down next to Fleur and taking another gulp of firewhiskey, "Drink, anyone?" Fleur scrunched her nose up at it in distaste in, Harry reflected, a very similar way to Hermione. Krum paused for a second before accepting the offered flask. With an apologetic glance at Harry, he ran his wand over it before taking a sip. He was from Durmstrang, after all, and it did not pay to be lax about security when one was so far away from home.

"'Arry, Cedric," Fleur began formally, "What do you know about ze first task?" Harry blinked and Cedric came out of his shocked trance finally.

"Umm... it's testing our courage, right? So we're not meant to know what it is until the day," Cedric said.

"Zat is how it should be," Krum grumbled, "But our head teachers haff decided zat zere iz more honour in cheating."

"I think our own head teacher has been a bit busy with other matters lately, so we haven't been coerced into cheating, I'm afraid," Harry chuckled.

"If only we could say ze same," Fleur sniffed, annoyance clear in her tone, "But as we know, we thought it only proper zat you two know also. Zat way we will be on even footing."

"Makes sense," Cedric said slowly, eyeing the two other champions with interest. Harry nodded vaguely, his mind on the figure of Draco Malfoy who had just walked out of the castle with Pansy Parkinson hanging onto his arm. They were heading towards the quidditch pitch, which made sense for Malfoy but what that Slytherin bint Parkinson knew about quidditch probably wouldn't fill a post-it, Harry thought bitterly. Malfoy was still ignoring Harry though he had toned it down slightly and was now turning up to meals. He just wouldn't look at Harry, the Gryffindor table or anything except from his food the entire time he was in the hall. Harry was fed up with it. He knew the whole thing was ridiculous- it was him and Malfoy, after all! But he had never been one to be confused about what he wanted. And right now, he wanted the blonde Slytherin. It was only too well that Harry was used to not getting what he wanted, as Malfoy had made it clear that Harry had no chance of getting him.

"Harry?" Cedric's voice interrupted Harry's inner monologue impatiently, "Are you even listening? I know you don't care about the tournament, but even you should care that you're going to have to face a dragon!" Harry had just been taking a swig from his hip flask which he promptly choked on.

"Dragon? We're fighting fucking dragons?" he croaked out, looking at the other three champions in disbelief. He received three nods in answer. "Huh. You guys are so screwed, you know that, right?" he grinned, laughing as Cedric swatted him round the back of the head.


	30. Chapter 30

Disclaimer: I own 32 paintbrushes, but not Harry Potter.

A/N: Sorry, sorry and sorry about my lack of ability to upload chapters in a timely manner. I suck, I know. In my defense I have been, as usual, uber busy. And the times I'm not at work/college/doing college work/out having a social life (although this one only happens occasionally these days) I've generally been too tired to write. But with the bank holidays this week it's been easier, so I have a chapter for you! And it's a fairly long chapter, too, so that's nice.

As always, thank you all so so much for your support and reviews (especially the reviews- I love reading them :)), it makes me happy :D

Enjoy!

* * *

It was a hung-over Harry who stumbled across the grounds on the morning of the first task. His eyes were bleary with sleep and his mind was still trying to process the snippets of memory he retained from the night before. Neville had been there, and Ron- he knew that much for certain. He was also fairly sure that Ginny and Hermione had been there for a while at least; there seemed to be less blurry memories of them than there were of the guys, so he had to assume they had left early to get some sleep. And from the vague memory of having someone's tongue in his mouth, he had to assume that Seamus had been there as well- that boy was a bigger slut than Harry, and if the rumours circulating the wizarding world were true, then that was saying something.

A few weeks ago, Harry managed to offend Rita Skeeter something dreadful during the Weighing of the Wands ceremony. Apparently the reporter hadn't taken too kindly to being refused an interview and subsequently being told to piss off. Who'd have thought it, eh? The next day, Harry had found himself on the front page of the Daily Prophet (looking rather dashing if he did say so himself- his clothes were ripped just the right amount, and his hair fell in waves around his shoulders perfectly) underneath the headline 'Harry Potter: heart throb or heart breaker?' The article had then gone on to outline his relationships with not only Hermione, Ginny, Cedric and Fleur, but also seven other students, two of whom he had never even heard of. According to Skeeter however, none of Harry's lovers knew of each other, as he was stringing them all along until he could secure the affections of his one true love- Blaise Zabini, who Harry could often be seen staring lovingly at across the Great Hall.

"Mr Potter! Where on earth have you been? You are late!" Professor McGonagall's voice rang across the grounds, piercing through Harry's aching head like a bag of nails. He had reached the foot of a hill, on top of which stood a large tent, with an irate Scottish woman in front of it.

"Sorry," Harry groaned, "I slept in."

"You _slept in_?" McGonagall screeched, "I do hope you're taking this tournament seriously. You are representing Gryffindor house after all." Although her words were harsh, Harry recognised the worry in the tremble of his teacher's voice, and he even thought he saw a tear in her eye.

"Don't worry, I'll be careful," he smiled in what he hoped was a kind manner. Unfortunately, his brain wasn't connected properly with his mouth this early in the morning, and the smile was more of a strange... well, let's just say that it definitely wasn't a smile. The professor sniffed, and ran her eyes over her student with a look of distaste. He was wearing his dragon skin boots (unlaced as he hadn't the hand-eye coordination that laces demanded when he was this hung-over) with faded, ripped jeans and a black, sleeveless tee. He had his wand holster clearly visible on his forearm and he had slung his sword through his belt in a fit of melodrama that morning- he was going dragon fighting, after all, and when one dragon fights, one needs a sword.

"And for goodness sake, Potter, tidy yourself up a bit before you go out there. Into the tent now, off you go," she shooed him in before hurrying off towards where Harry could hear a rumble of noise that he supposed meant the students.

"Ah, Harry, there you are," Ludo Bagman's cheerful voice was the next to invade Harry's fragile head, and he stifled a groan of annoyance and attempted to plaster on a smile. This attempt was no more successful than the last, but everyone in the tent mistook his hangover for nerves, and the strange expression wasn't commented on. Sniggered at slightly, but not commented on.

The explanation of the task went by in a blur for Harry, who was using all of his energy trying not to fall asleep on his feet. It seems only seconds after he had entered the tent that a bag was being thrust under his nose. He blinked at it for a second before automatically putting his hand in and withdrawing something from it. A tiny model of a black dragon sat yawning in his hand with a number '4' hung around its neck.

"Huh," Harry muttered to himself. They were kind of cute really. Maybe Hagrid was right about them, he thought. Just then, the model blew out a miniature spurt of fire from its nostrils and Harry changed his mind, nursing his burnt finger. He looked around at his fellow champions as the adults left; they all looked to be in various states of nervous breakdowns.

"Oi, stop fussing you lot," he said good naturedly, "You got picked for a reason, you know you'll be fine. It's just a puny dragon." Cedric and Krum stared at the younger boy in disbelief, but Fleur snorted delicately.

"Only you, 'Arry, would ever say zat," she said fondly.

"Yep, and that's why you're still my girlfriend even though you know I love another," Harry grinned, ignoring his hangover as he ran towards her and scooped her up in his arms. Cedric chuckled across the tent and even Krum cracked a smile as Harry spun Fleur around in circles, making himself feel about ten times more nauseous than before.

A cannon went off , disturbing their fun and Cedric stepped forward to the exit with a determined expression.

"Good luck, Ced," Harry called.

"You will be fine, Cedric," Fleur told him with a smile. Even Krum managed a grunt and a nod in the Hufflepuff's direction. And with those sentiments, Cedric strode through the door to face the first task. The remaining three champions stood for a minute, still staring at the door.

"That was kinda anticlimactic, wasn't it?" Harry said and Fleur nodded.

"Alright, pup?" A voice from behind them all asked and Harry jumped around, his wand in his hand instantly and his sword unsheathed.

"Fuck me, Pads, you've got to stop sneaking up on me!" he exclaimed and Sirius sniggered, "What are you even doing here?"

"Came to see my little boy, all grown up and off to fight dragons, of course!" Sirius said, wiping a fake tear from his eye.

"Git," Harry muttered, crossing the tent and grabbing his godfather into a hug.

"Ponce," Sirius retorted, before catching sight of Fleur, "Where are your manners, pup, aren't you going to introduce me?"

"This witty and intelligent young lady is Fleur Delacour, champion for Beauxbatons and soon-to-be dragon slayer," Harry announced pompously, "And this strapping fellow over here is Viktor Krum of Durmstrang. I think he's a quidditch player or something." Shocking them all, Krum laughed at Harry's last statement before crossing the tent to shake Sirius's hand.

"You are Sirius Black, ov course," he said in his heavily accented English, "'Arry 'as spoken ov you often."

"As he has to me," Fleur chipped in with a dazzling smile, looking at Harry's godfather with no little interest. Sirius grinned happily.

"All good, I hope!" He said cheerily. Fleur and Krum exchanged a quick glance.

"Of course it was, Pads," Harry cut in before either could speak. The roar of the crowd outside interrupted them and Fleur began to look nervous again. Harry hugged her, kissing her cheek as he drew back.

"You'll do fine love, trust me," he grinned. With a shaky smile, she nodded, stepping towards the edge of the tent. Seconds later, the cannon fired for a second time and she left the tent. Two down, two to go.

"You both got a plan, then?" Sirius asked, his demeanour suddenly as serious as his name. Krum nodded curtly, and Harry grinned.

"Oh, yeah," he said happily, lighting a cigarette only to have it snatched away a second later by Sirius.

"Cheers, pup," he said with a cheeky smile. Harry glared at his godfather, reaching for another only to find that his packet was empty.

"Oh come on, Pads, that was my last one!" he grumbled, though he knew it would do on good.

"Oh come on, pup, I don't care!" Sirius replied, blowing smoke into his godson's face and laughing. Krum stood by, watching with bemusement, almost forgetting that he had to go and battle a dragon very soon.

And sure enough, Sirius had just finished his cigarette when the cannon went off a third time and it was the quidditch star's turn.

"Good luck, mate," Harry called as he left, before resuming his sulking.

"Geez, if you're gonna get in a huff about it, here," Sirius mumbled, throwing a full pack towards Harry's head. With his Seeker's reflexes, the teen caught the pack, a happy grin on his face.

"You're a fucking ass sometimes, you know that right?" Sirius let out a great bark of laughter: he had taught his godson well.

"Anyway, I'd better get out of here, want to get a good seat, don't I?"

"Yeah, how come you're here anyway?" Harry asked, "I thought family wasn't invited to watch 'til the third task?"

"I have my ways, pup, I have my ways," Sirius grinned charmingly before changing into Padfoot and running out of the tent.

"Bloody show-off," Harry muttered as he sat in a chair to wait. His own attempts at the animagus transformation had not been going too smoothly, and Sirius knew it. It wasn't that he wasn't trying, it was just that his mind was so often distracted by other things. He had schoolwork, Occlumency lessons, drinking, smoking, Malfoy to brood over- all of which were very hard to ignore when he was trying to bloody meditate or something.

It seemed like only minutes later that the cannon sounded again and it was Harry's turn at the dragon. Sighing, he stood up and staggered towards the entrance; in his hung over state, sitting down had caused his brain to forget how his legs worked, it seemed. Stepping carefully out of the tent, he arrived in a large, rock filled stadium, surrounded by an enormous crowd. He picked out Ron and Hermione easily in the crowd, surrounded as they were by the twins and Ginny- that amount of red hair wasn't easily missed. It looked as though the twins were taking bets, although Harry couldn't be sure. Malfoy was another who caught Harry's eye, but not because of his white blonde hair. No, Malfoy was obvious in the crowd because he was the only one fighting off a large, black dog who was trying to slobber all over the Slytherin's face.

Harry groaned and buried his face in his hands for a second: only Padfoot. Unfortunately, it was that second that the dragon decided to make its appearance: enormous and scaly, it had black spikes all over it and a fearsome glare.

Sighing to himself, Harry tried not to dwell on the myriad of more productive things he could be doing today, and quickly looked around for some shelter. Seeing a large rock, he made a quick dash for it. He had been going for a casual stroll that oozed cool, but the dragon decided to shoot fire at him and so he had been forced to speed up the pace. Once he was behind his rock, he found a pebble on the ground and, displaying no little skill, he transfigured it into a large, over stuffed arm chair in pink and green. Frowning slightly at the colour, Harry flopped into it, hanging his feet over one arm and his head over the other. Nicely comfortable for the first time that morning, he reached into his jeans pocket and found the pack of cigarettes that Sirius had just given him. He lit one quickly and took a drag, before leaning back and closing his eyes.

Within minutes, the boy-who-lived-to-be-a-Triwizard-champion was asleep. In a mouth wide open, snoring and drooling to his heart's content kind of a way.

In the stands, a large black dog stopped terrorising the youngest Malfoy for a second to bark an approving laugh down at his godson before carrying on getting as much dog slobber as he could in that perfect hair.


	31. Chapter 31

Disclaimer: I own several beaten up moleskines, but no Harry Potter, I'm afraid.

A/N: Ok, I know I say this every time, but sorry about my lame amount of updating recently, I'm super busy right now. I always am :(

But thank you to everyone who's read/reviewed/everything else and thank you to everyone who sent me stories, I've read a lot of your suggestions and they've all been great so far :D Feel free to keep sending me stories though, it's great :)

Enjoy!

* * *

"_Cheers," Harry said drowsily, clinking his shot glass against the dragon's. Or I suppose we should call her Harriet, not 'the dragon', as Harriet was her preferred name. Harry's first guess as to what the Hungarian Horntail's name was had been 'Horny', but he couldn't be right all the time, he supposed. _

"_So anyway," Harriet said in her accented Parseltongue, "As I was saying. What brings a girl like you to a place like this?" She gestured to their surroundings and Harry tried to take a look around to see what she meant but found that he was too tired to turn his head. Giving up, he grinned slyly at his companion, making sure to look her straight in the eyes. _

"_And who, precisely, said I wasn't exactly the kind of girl for a place like this?" he asked huskily (or at least, as huskily as one can be when one is hissing), downing his shot in one without breaking eye contact. Harriet looked shocked for a second before throwing her shot over her shoulder and leaning forward, her teeth gleaming as she opened her mouth to-_

"No, Harriet, don't eat me! I forgot I'm not a girl!"

Hermione and Neville exchanged bemused glances before resuming their poking of his cheeks. Slowly, Harry awoke and swatted their fingers off of his face.

"Harry?" Hermione asked, smothering a giggle, "You have to wake up now. The task's over, everyone's leaving."

"Shit," Harry mumbled, opening bleary eyes to peer up at his two friends, "How long was I asleep for? And where's Ron?" For he had glanced around to find his third best friend and hadn't been able to catch a glimpse of the red-head anywhere.

"You were asleep for almost an hour," Hermione tutted, but he could see from the spark in her eyes that she was amused really. She had appearances to uphold though, and couldn't be seen encouraging this kind of irresponsibility.

"And Ron took that dog and went to get supplies," Neville added, holding his hand out to help Harry to his feet.

"Supplies?" Harry asked, perplexed, "Supplies for what?"

"The 'Our Champion Lost' party is what I think Fred and George said. They've gone to the common room already to start setting up." Harry grinned at Neville's words; of course he had assumed that he would lose (how could he not?), but he had not thought that his house would be willing to throw a party anyway. In fact, he had been half-afraid that they would be pissed at him for not showing the kind of bravery and courage that Gryffindor's were supposed to have. Of course, they may have taken falling asleep in a dragon enclosure as a very brave thing to do, in which case the party made perfect sense. Either way, Harry wasn't going to complain.

"Cool," he said as they started to walk back up to the castle with the rest of the stragglers. A sudden thought popped into his head and he smirked happily, "Hey, do you reckon it'd be alright if I invited some people?"

* * *

Draco Malfoy was not a happy bunny. Of course, his life being how it was, Draco Malfoy was almost never a happy bunny, but right now he was even less of a happy bunny than usual. There were many factors contributing towards his bad mood, and, he thought resentfully, they could all be traced back to Harry Bleeding Potter.

For a start, that stupid mutt of a godfather of his had slobbered all over his hair, and it had looked _perfect _that morning, damnit. It had taken half an hour to tease his hair out of the crispy clumps the dog slobber had dried it in, but not before everyone in the school (and several who weren't) had seen him looking ridiculous.

For a second thing, the way Potter had avoided having to do the task properly whilst still fulfilling the terms of the Goblet was, while Gryffindor at first glance, actually almost _Slytherin _in its cunning. And Potter just wasn't allowed to be Slytherin in any way, shape or form. Admitting that Potter had some Slytherin qualities would be admitting that he was someway respectable, which would be admitting him as a possible object of his affections (if one overstepped the fact he was a _he _of course- Draco was sure father would not approve of that). And admitting that would provide far too much of a temptation.

Not that Draco would ever go through with it, of course, he had none of that Gryffindor bravery after all. But the fact that it was possible would nag at him, night and day, and he was sure he would be sent crazy by it all.

It also didn't help towards Draco's mood that Pansy and Blaise had been invited to a party in the Gryffindor common room by Potter himself.

It doubly didn't help that they had gone.

Scowling, his grip on the quill in his hand tightened until it snapped, shards digging deep into his hand. He yelped, shocked out of his brooding thoughts and watched in dismay as blood dripped onto his half-finished letter to his father.

"Fuck," he muttered. He'd have to start again now- his father wouldn't accept anything less than perfect, even with something as simple as a letter home. Pushing the parchment aside, Draco reluctantly left his room and headed towards the hospital wing.

* * *

Madam Pomfrey looked up from her cup of tea and frowned. If she wasn't mistaken, she could hear a chicken squawking out in the hallway. And (here she really hoped that she _was _mistaken) it was getting closer. Sighing, she put her cup down and stood, ready to face the oncoming problem.

Sure enough, moments later, a laughing pair of Weasley twins dragged through the doors what looked like... a boy with the head of a canary? _Oh dear Merlin... _

"Madam Pomfrey!" Weasley twin one exclaimed.

"Just the-"

"Wonderful-"

"Amazing-"

"Beautiful woman we wanted to see!" This last was said together, before they dissolved once more into giggles.

"What on earth have you done now?" the matron asked, tutting and pulling the canary-headed boy away from the twins and towards a bed.

"Well-"

"You see-"

"He _wanted _to try it-"

"Even though we _said _it wasn't-"

"Finished yet-"

"So _really _it's-"

"All Harry's fault!" There was a slight pause as Madam Pomfrey looked from the twins to the canary boy and back again.

"So we'll just be off then!" The twins announced in unison, turning and running from the hospital wing before the matron could call them back and demand an explanation. Sighing again, she thought longingly of the cup of tea and new issue of _Witch Weekly _that was waiting for her before turning her attention back to the newly canary-ed Boy Who Lived.

"Squawk," Harry said pitifully, staring at her with black, beady eyes so different to his normal dazzling green.

"Honestly," Madam Pomfrey fretted, "What have you gotten yourself in for this time?" Harry was about to open his mouth and squawk in protest, but the doors to the hospital wing opened for a second time and in walked Draco Malfoy. Harry made a croaking sound in the back of his throat that Madam Pomfrey quite rightly assumed could be translated as something akin to 'oh, fuck'.

* * *

Draco had to stifle a laugh when he walked into the hospital wing and saw a bird-headed boy sat on the edge of a bed. Moments later, however, his eyes near on bugged out of his head as he heard Madam Pomfrey's words.

"Stay here, Mr Potter." _Potter. What the bloody hell was he doing here?_ Draco conveniently forgot that it was entirely _obvious _why Harry was there and concentrated on the fact that Harry would have to be the only person in the entire world who could still have any semblance of hotness whilst having a canary head. Granted, the Gryffindor's attractiveness had been greatly downsized (yellow really wasn't his colour), but still.

"What seems to be the problem, Mr Malfoy?" The impatient words of Madam Pomfrey made Draco jump and he snapped his gaze guiltily onto her, all too aware that he had been staring at Harry.

"I broke my quill," he said coldly, gathering himself together quickly and holding out his hand. If he continued this ridiculous behaviour around Potter then people would begin to notice- _his father _would begin to notice. So he put his best 'Malfoy' face on and tried not to look at Harry. Considering the fact that the boy in question had an enormous, yellow, feathery head did not help his resolve much.

Madam Pomfrey muttered a few spells and the shards of quill extracted themselves from his palm, the wounds healing up seconds later. His hand was good as new.

"Now, sit on that bed there," Madam Pomfrey said, "And I'll check on you in a while."

"Excuse me?" Draco asked, raising one perfect blonde eyebrow. "I am perfectly fine now, and will be returning to my dormitory. I'm afraid I don't care much for the company in here." With that he sent a glare in Harry's direction, who squawked quietly in annoyance, before he turned to leave.

"If you do not get in that bed right now, Mr Malfoy, you can go and see the headmaster instead and there'll be points taken and detentions given. Now, get. In. The. Bed. Now." Draco scowled but followed orders, trying to ignore the strange squawking noises he took to be laughter coming from Harry's direction.

* * *

"Draaaaaaco?" Harry whispered across the dark of the hospital wing. It had been almost an hour since Madam Pomfrey had fixed his head and confined them both to bed rest, and almost three quarters of an hour since Harry had begun to try and get Draco's attention. So far, no luck.

Pouting silently to himself, Harry finally threw caution to the winds and tiptoed out of his bed, quickly crossing the room to Draco's.

"Oi," he whispered, "I know you're awake." Draco lifted one hand and stuck up his middle finger. Harry grinned- at least the Slytherin had admitted that he wasn't asleep. That was progress at least.

"Good," he said, "So if you'd just like to tell me why you've been bloody avoiding me since the owlery, then I'll go back to bed and leave you to sleep." A frown appeared on the blonde's face, and he opened his eyes, staring at Harry with annoyance and something else less discernible. Disgust, perhaps?

"Perhaps, _Potter," _Draco whispered savagely, "It was because I couldn't stand a reminder of such a repulsive incident. I don't exactly revel in the fact that I touched a half blood like _you." _He ended his insult with his best Malfoy sneer, happy when he saw a flash of anger in the Gryffindor's eyes. Serves him right, he thought, as if a living reminder of what happened wasn't enough, Potter just had to bring it up in the middle of the night, didn't he?

"What?" Draco asked, after watching Harry glare at him for a few seconds, "Not going to hit me? I thought that was what you did these days. Not so much the noble hero any more, are you? More like a fuck up who's going nowhere with your life. If it weren't for your parents dying then you'd be nothing, Potter." It was just like old times, Draco thought, insulting each other without a care for the other's feelings. Harry, on the other hand was having no such happy thoughts. He had thought they were past this, had thought Malfoy had stopped insulting Harry's family every other sentence. He had even, crazily, thought they could move past it all. With effort, he schooled his features into a calm, ruthless expression. It felt alien on his face, his face which was meant for smiles and laughter, not hatred.

"When you least expect it, _Draco,_" he whispered, stroking one finger across the other boy's cheek, "When you least expect it," he repeated before turning and storming out of the Hospital Wing.


	32. Chapter 32

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter. J.K. does.

A/N: Not too long between updates this time :D I wrote this while I cooked my lunch (which I am now eating as I upload it) so I apologise if there are any mistakes/ it doesn't make sense as it hasn't been checked over.

I know I haven't answered the last chapter's reviews and I'm sorry, but I doubt it will get done. Be assured that I read every single one of them though, and they all made me smile :D

Thank you as usual to all who read/reviewed/subscribed/favourited and whatever else. It's lovely of you :)

Enjoy!

* * *

Neville was trying not to look at Harry. The other boy had been fuming for weeks now, ever since he returned from Hospital Wing in the middle of the night. The party in the common room had still been going, although it ended pretty quickly when Harry stormed in; he was an intimidating sight usually, with his torn clothes, messy hair and over-confidence. But add to that an angry glint in his eye and slightly bared teeth (which sent shivers down many backs- there was something scarily primal about it) and the Boy Who Lived was absolutely terrifying. And so everyone had scrammed, without asking why he was in such a state. The only one brave (or dumb) enough to ask had been Ron who had gotten a snarl and a glare for his trouble.

So now Neville was sitting awkwardly next to Harry in transfiguration (Ron, who usually held the seat, had moved forwards next to Hermione, still miffed about Harry's bad mood) and trying to avoid making eye contact. That seemed to work with most wild animals, after all, and it was the only plan Neville had.

He was concentrating so hard on not looking at Harry that he almost missed Professor McGonagall's announcement, and as he was not looking at Harry, he most certainly missed the look of triumph and glee that spread across the boy's face.

"Awesome," Harry whispered, before turning to Neville and willingly starting a conversation for the first time in weeks, "Who're you going to ask then?"

"Huh?" Neville replied intelligently.

"The Yule Ball? You know, the thing Minnie's been talking about all this time?"

"Oh, yeah. I don't know," Neville said, embarrassed, "I doubt anyone would want to go with me." There was a great scrape of chairs and everyone stood to leave, Harry and Neville quickly following suit. Harry tried to tell Neville that he was being stupid, but Professor McGonagall called his name.

"Mr Potter, a word." Sighing, Harry turned back to wade through the students to get to his professor's desk.

"Yes, Minnie?" He asked, grinning charmingly and looking all too much like James Potter for Minerva's liking.

"Potter, the champions and their partners will be opening the ball," she said coldly, knowing that any complaint about being called 'Minnie' would only lead to Harry losing house points. And she _really _wanted Gryffindor to win. "As such, I expect you to not only have a suitable partner, but I sincerely hope you will deign to dress appropriately." With this last she looked pointedly at the neck of his school robe, which was open just enough that Harry's 'Sex Pistols' tee shirt was clearly visible. Her gaze also went to his feet which were stuffed into grubby white converse.

"Minnie!" Harry exclaimed, slapping a hand over his heart, "You wound me!" Professor McGonagall tutted and levelled him with a cold stare.

"Go away, Mr Potter. Go far away."

"Yessir!" Harry saluted and legged it from the classroom before he could lose house points. He really had been doing that far too often this year.

* * *

"Pansy, darling," Harry whispered huskily into the Slytherin girl's ear at dinner that night, "Can I have a word?" Pansy turned and raised one perfectly shaped eyebrow in a silent question. Harry simply smirked and began to walk away from her, out of the room. Sighing, she put her fork down and stood.

"I'll be back in a minute, boys," she said, making Malfoy glare and Blaise frown before she walked slowly out of the hall. It wouldn't do to seem too keen, after all.

Harry was waiting for her just down the hallway, leant against the wall with a cigarette in his hand and with his school robe open at the front to reveal sinfully tight jeans. When he saw her coming he pushed himself off the wall and moved towards her, stopping when they were inches apart, so close that she could smell the smoke on his breath.

"You and me," he started, confidence clear in his tone, "Are going to the Yule Ball together." Inside her head, Pansy grinned. He may be a Gryffindor, and he may be the Boy Who Lived, and her parents certainly wouldn't approve and this was about to cause a lot of trouble for her. But _damn _was he hot. On the outside, however, she kept her face in a blank mask and played it cool.

"Oh? Are you forgetting I have a boyfriend, Potter?"

"And has he asked you yet?" Harry asked. Pansy didn't react, but then again, Harry already knew the answer. "Of course he hasn't. Perhaps you should teach him a lesson, hmm?" He let his eyes linger on her lips before flicking back to her dark eyes. He could see his words playing in her mind, and knew that he had her.

"Fine, whatever," she finally agreed, "But you're buying me a new dress. The one I have will look terrible with your colouring, sweetie." Harry looked taken aback at this but recovered quickly, smirking that unnatural smirk.

"You know what, I think that might be a brilliant idea. Hogsmeade, this weekend. I'll meet you here at eleven." Harry leant in and gave her a quick peck on her lips before turning and heading down the corridor towards the dungeons, leaving a breathless and confused Pansy in his wake.

* * *

"You fucking did WHAT?" Sirius yelled through the mirror, "Jeez, pup, what is it with you and Death Eater children? If I had any sense I might start worrying." Harry chuckled and took another drag on his cigarette. He was sat at the top of the Astronomy tower with the mirror propped up on his knee.

"Don't worry. She's pretty and all, but really I just want to piss Malfoy off. And stealing his girlfriend is probably the best way to do that."

"Huh," Sirius frowned, "You might want to not tell Moony about that. He's a bit funny about having morals and stuff." A tiny crease appeared on Harry's forehead. He knew that before this year he would never have dreamt of using Pansy like this, but now... He had to get back at Malfoy somehow, after all. Get back at him for making him feel this way and then just... then just being Malfoy. Shaking his head slightly, he banished the thoughts from his mind. It was done now, after all, and there was no going back.

"Anyway," Sirius carried on, "How's the Occlumency going?" Harry grinned, thinking back to earlier in the evening and his lesson with Snape. Having mastered the basics, Harry was now being taught to project false memories to the intruder. He was having great fun making up fake images of Snape and Sirius kissing and showing them to his Professor. Of course, he mixed it up every so often and had Snape kissing McGonagall or Dumbledore. But mostly, it was Sirius, partly because it created the best reaction and partly because he was looking forward to the next time the two of them met. He just _knew _that Snape wouldn't be able to stop himself from thinking about it.

"Just brilliant, Pads, fucking brilliant," he grinned, flicking his cigarette over the edge of the tower.

"Good. And the Animagus training?" His godfather smirked, knowing full well that Harry would have told him straight away if any progress had been made in that area. Harry scowled playfully.

"You know I can't do it, mate. It just doesn't bloody work. I might just give up. It's not like the 'power he knows not' is gonna be that I can turn into a frog or something, is it?"

"To be honest, pup, I'm not sure what good a frog would be against a wizard," Sirius quipped before going into a lecture about exactly what Harry had to do to successfully become an Animagus. Harry groaned and tuned out, he had heard this again and again, but it made no difference. He just wasn't born to be an animagus.

* * *

"You've been staring at me all night, Ronald, do you want some help with homework or something?" Hermione snapped, pushing her bushy curls behind her ears. She'd been in a bad mood all day. First there was the announcement about the Yule Ball, which had sent every single girl apart from her into a giggly gossiping frenzy, which annoyed Hermione no end. Then, when she had tried to find peace in the library, Viktor Krum just had to turn up and bring his fan-group with him. Frustrated, she had retreated to the common room only for Ron to stare at her all evening.

"No," Ron said defensively, turning a bright red, "I, uh, just wanted to, um, know if you had a, um, a date to the ball yet?" Hermione blinked in shock, her brain working overtime. Did he just-uh- _oh. _She realised quickly that she had hesitated too long when Ron started speaking again in a nervous, too-fast kind of way.

"I mean, of course you do, I'm being stupid, you and Harry are probably-"

"No, Ronald, I don't," Hermione interrupted him with a smile, "And yes, Ronald, I will." And without further ado they both went back to their homework, secret smiles on their faces.


	33. Chapter 33

Disclaimer: *disclaims*

A/N: Thank you as usual to everyone who has supported this story in any way. It truly means a lot :)

Sorry about not replying to all of the reviews, but I'm super busy still. The only reason this chapter got written at all this week is because I was buzzed after coming home from a gig last night and decided that writing was more important than sleeping. It means I'm shattered today, but never mind :D

Anyway, enjoy the chapter!

* * *

A vein was bulging on Ron Weasley's forehead and a dull, dangerous, red flush was creeping up his neck, quickly spreading over his face where it blended nicely with his hair. Hermione Granger, walking down Hogsmeade high street with him, had not noticed this sudden change, engrossed as she was in a very one-sided conversation about their Transfiguration homework.

"What the... What the bloody hell is he doing?" Ron's yell alerted Hermione to the danger, and she looked up worriedly, trying to scout out the source of his rage.

It was Harry, of course, walking towards them down the street, all wrapped up for the cold weather in heavy boots and his thick, grey cloak. If Hermione wasn't mistaken, she was sure that that ridiculous sword of his hung around his waist, mostly hidden from view by the folds of grey material. It was obvious, however, that the source of Ron's anger came from the dark-haired Slytherin girl who was tucked happily underneath Harry's arm. At Ron's yell, the couple had looked up from their conversation and, on spotting the two Gryffindor's, began to make their way over. Or, at least, Harry began to make his way over and Pansy was dragged along. But still.

"Hey guys," Harry greeted them with a smile, and Hermione was glad to see that some of the melancholy mood he had been sporting lately had dissipated. It wasn't completely gone, but it was a start. Ron, however, saw nothing of this, focused only on the girl still tucked under Harry's arm.

"She's a Slytherin, Harry!" He exploded, droplets of spittle flying from his mouth which caused Pansy to wrinkle her nose in distaste. A tiny crease appeared between Harry's eyebrows and he looked down at the Slytherin in question.

"Pansy, darling, why you go into Hemming's and start looking at dresses? I'll catch you up in a minute." Pansy rolled her eyes; Gryffindor's had the subtlety of Hagrid. She complied quickly enough though, eager to be away from her present company.

"You... what the hell, Harry?" Ron spluttered, "You're going out with a Slytherin now? Are you mental? They're evil!" Harry kept his face blank and collected, but he betrayed his feelings by clenching his fists so tightly that his knuckles turned white.

"Who, Pansy?" He asked, innocently, "Nah, mate, she's got no fucking chance. Not really my type, see, being as I'm gay and all. I just thought she was the best way to Malfoy, who, by the way, I can't stop fucking thinking about ever since I kissed him a few months ago. Yeah, Malfoy. Who's a fucking Slytherin too, if you hadn't noticed," Harry paused for breath, trying with all his might to calm down. Hermione and Ron were staring at him, with matching looks of disbelief and shock on their faces. He watched them for about 10 seconds before realising that he really didn't want to be there when they snapped out of their shock. Abruptly, he turned and left.

There was silence for another minute before Hermione's ever rational brain found the answer it had been seeking.

"Honestly," she said, "These jokes of his are getting weirder and weirder."

* * *

Harry was in a terrible mood when he walked through the door of Hemmings, but the sight of Pansy standing there in a frilly, lilac dress cheered him immensely. She was standing in front of the mirror, admiring herself from every angle and was clearly pleased with what she saw.

"I am _not _buying you that, Pansy. It's fucking hideous!" He burst out without thinking of the repercussions. Sure enough, Pansy turned to him with murderous eyes.

"Well, if you think I'm so hideous I suppose I'll just have to go to the ball with someone else," she snapped coldly, crossing her arms over her chest. Harry stifled a giggle at the sight of her angry in that dress, and immediately crossed the shop to fold her into his arms.

"Now, now, Panse, I never said _you _were hideous, just the dress is. I mean, what the fuck were you thinking? You're a Slytherin. You're strong and cunning, and ruthless, and you want to wear _that _abomination? Jeez, I'd expect it of Lavender maybe, but _you_?" Harry shook his head despairingly, before wandering over to one of the racks of dresses.

"Well, almighty fashion king, do tell me what you deem good enough," Pansy spat out sarcastically. Harry ignored her, flicking through dresses on the racks and coming up with nothing. He turned to find another section of dresses when he saw it, hanging on a mannequin in the far corner. It was perfect.

"Oh Pansy," he muttered, "You are going to fucking _love_ this."

* * *

"Indeed," Blaise rolled his eyes whilst agreeing with his best friend. Draco had been ranting all day about Harry Potter, and, to be honest, Blaise was fed up with it.

"I mean, even his hair is ridiculous," Malfoy pouted, "It's all sticky up and stupid. Who has hair like that? _My _hair is much better. So why did Pansy go with him?" Blaise sighed. He never knew if it was a blessing or a curse that Draco only ever showed his true colours when they were alone together. To everyone else, he acted the Slytherin Prince, but only Blaise got to see the whining, pouting, confused and _brilliant _boy that Draco really was.

"Draco," Blaise interrupted whilst he still had the chance, "Are you really bothered that Pansy is going to the Yule Ball with somebody else, or are you just bothered that Harry Potter is going with Pansy? Because it seems like you're jealous of Pansy more than you're jealous of Harry."

"Excuse me?" Draco's voice was quiet, almost a hiss, and as cold as it could get. Blaise rolled his eyes again. The Slytherin Prince was back. Acting on a whim, Blaise decided to take a leaf out of Potter's book and be blunt. To hell with the Slytherin codes and cunning.

"You fancy Potter. Potter fancies you. And now you're pissed because Pansy has him. Well, I doubt she has him really- more likely he wants to make you jealous, so you'll stop ignoring him. Why don't you just do something for _you _for a change, instead of following your father's orders all the time. You're fourteen! You're in your fourth year at Hogwarts! It's about time you stood up to him!" Blaise had stood up at some point whilst he was speaking and as soon as he finished, Draco shot up out of his seat as well, snarling at his best friend.

"Like you know what you're talking about! The only problem you've ever had with your mother is having to listen to her shag a different man every night! You have no idea what it's like, I'd like to see you stand up to Lucius Malfoy."

"I have no idea what it's like? I've been there with you every step of the way, mate! I've seen the bruises, the broken bones, the blood and the tears. I've watched you change, watched you cut yourself off from everything you ever cared about. When was the last time you saw your Aunt Andy? The last time you even bothered to run to her after your father was through with you?"

"Don't you even-" Draco began, an angry snarl on his face, but Blaise quickly cut him off.

"No! I'm fed up with this. You've given in to him, haven't you? Just given up. You'll become a Death Eater just like him and you'll kill and rape and torture _just like him. _Because you won't let us help!" Blaise laughed suddenly, remembering the start of this argument, "I suppose you and Potter at least have something in common in that respect- you both think you have to do everything alone."

The door to the common room opened and a first year girl walked in, stopping with surprise when she saw the scene in front of her. The two boys, whom she had never seen being anything less than brotherly to each other, were inches apart, snarling angrily at each other. That all changed in a second though, as they both snapped their heads towards her.

"Get out!" Malfoy screamed. She didn't need telling twice. Her appearance had interrupted Blaise's anger though, and he stepped back, retreating behind his usual calm, rational exterior. Without another word to his best friend, he turned and swept from the room.

Draco, however, was not so quick to deflate, and it was a long time before anybody dared to enter the common room again that night.


	34. Chapter 34

Disclaimer: Happy Meals do not actually induce happiness and should not be used as an anti-depressant.

A/N: Ok, so for starters thank you so so much for all of your support, and I'm sorry that I didn't get to answer the majority of the reviews again. I promise you that I read them all, and love them all, but I have just been so ridiculously busy you wouldn't believe it.

I now have less than a week left of college, and I have a shitload of work to do. Literally a shitload. To get done in three days. Not that I'm stressed out or anything.

But in the small amounts of free time I've had (and I mean whilst I'm eating my dinner/lunch/am meant to be asleep) I've managed to clobber together a chapter for you all :) Sorry it's late yadda yadda yadda, but after this week I will be updating more regularly because I will have tons more free time. It might seem like it ends a bit randomly, but that's because it's the first part, and the second part will be coming next chapter when I write it. I thought I'd upload this now so you at least have some form of update, rather than having to wait another week or so.

Anyway, I'll stop rambling now and let you read the chapter :)

Enjoy!

* * *

If Harry Potter were the kind of person who worried and fretted over every decision they made, then he would have been at least a little bit doubtful about what he was about to do as he dressed for the ball. Had inviting Pansy been the right idea? Sure, it would get Draco's attention, but what if he wasn't even jealous, just pissed off? Ok, so he was hot when he was pissed off, but still. Who was Draco going with, anyway? Was he taking a girl? Was she pretty?

But Harry Potter was not the kind of person who worried and fretted over every decision they made. Or, at least, he was trying very hard to convince himself of that. Across the room, his best friend Ron was having problems of his own.

"Bloody things," the red-head muttered, looking down at his hideous, old robes. Harry looked down at his own emerald green robes and silently agreed with that sentiment. They were just so... posh, he thought, frowning to himself.

"Hey, Ron," he called, after a minute of glaring at his reflection in the mirror.

"Yeah?"

"Here you go," Harry quickly pulled his robes over his head and threw them at Ron, not waiting to see his friend's reaction as he turned and began to rifle through his trunk for something to wear. Jeans? Nah. Tartan trousers? They had mud stains on them, and whilst he was going for more casual than dress robes, he didn't think he would get away with turning up to the ball looking like a hobo, Boy-Who-Lived or not.

"Seriously? What are you wearing?" Ron asked, shedding his own robes and pulling Harry's on in what must have been record time so that Harry couldn't change his mind.

"'M not sure yet..." Harry mumbled, "I might just go naked... _Oh._"

"Found something?" Neville asked from his bed, where he had been sat watching the exchange. Harry pulled a pair of trousers out of his trunk.

"Oh, fuck yes."

* * *

The Great Hall was abuzz with chatter and laughter as the school(s) waited for their champions to appear and open the dance. There had been no Christmas lunch, as dinner would be served at the ball, but everyone (including the teachers, which considering Snape, was a scary thought) were acting as though they were on a sugar high. Hermione and Ron stood together with Neville and Ginny, making awkward conversation.

They were all nervous, though for very different reasons. Hermione was still feeling self-conscious about her transformation from bookworm to beautiful, especially as Ron had yet to comment on it. His jaw had dropped when he saw her, and he had actually been speechless for a while. It was the quietest anyone had ever seen Ron, apart from when he was stuffing his face. Therefore it stands to reason that Ron was nervous because he had no idea how to tell Hermione that she looked amazing. Ginny was overwhelmed by being one of the youngest students in the room, it had forced her old shy streak out into the open again.

Neville, for his part, was just worried about what Harry was wearing.

"The champions and their partners," an official voice announced. The doors to the hall opened slowly and everyone crowded around, trying to catch a glimpse of the four Triwizard champions.

Cedric came in first, wearing smart black robes and with a very pretty looking Cho Chang on his arm. Several girls glared at her, furious that she had gotten to him first. Fleur followed behind with Blaise on her arm. Harry had had the idea to pair the two of them up after one too many complaints from Fleur about not being able to find a decent guy to take her to the ball. Blaise was the most tactful guy Harry knew, and so he had thought they might be able to get through the evening without any mishaps. Plus, they looked wonderful together, the perfect contrast of light and dark, with Blaise in midnight blue robes and Fleur in a beautiful champagne coloured dress. Krum followed after, with an incredibly smug looking Parvati Patil on his arm. Her maroon dress went perhaps a little too well with Krum's Bulgarian dress robes, but she didn't seem to mind.

And then there was Harry and Pansy, and the hall went silent for a second before erupting into laughter and wolf-whistles. Ron's jaw had dropped and Neville had buried his face in his hands whilst Hermione tutted and shook her head at her friend's get up.

Pansy's dress was black; the top half was a leather corset with an intricate pattern of snakes carved into it, whilst the bottom half was layer upon layer of a flowing, sheer fabric that clung to the outline of her legs before pooling on the floor. Her lips were bright red and her eyes were smoky. Harry wore a smug smirk on his face and little else. His trousers were almost inhumanly tight and low rising, and matched Pansy's dress in that they were made of black leather. He wore a worn out, baggy white vest top over it and endless amounts of black eyeliner around his eyes. He didn't have his glasses on, having forked out for eye corrective spells when he was in Hogsmeade, and his green eyes were practically glowing. His long, shaggy hair fell messily around his shoulders as usual, but that only seemed to add to his charms.

Ignoring the attention on them, the couple followed the other champions onto the dance floor, where Harry took hold of Pansy's waist, holding her closer than was probably necessary. As he turned his back to the crowd in order to get into position, his classmates saw an extra detail to his outfit that hadn't been visible before: a golden lightning bolt on each of the back pockets of his trousers. Neville sighed; sometimes, just sometimes, he missed the old Harry.

Harry caught Draco's eye over Pansy's shoulder and winked, smirking at the scowl that formed on the blonde boy's face. Then the music started and he began to regret being so cocky. He had forgotten that he couldn't dance. The panic must have shown on his face though, as Pansy began steering them around the dance floor, controlling his movements with a series of pinches and prods.

Luckily, the song wasn't particularly long and soon enough Dumbledore had stood up at the head of the hall.

"Welcome, everyone, to the Yule Ball, and may I say that you all look rather wonderful tonight," his twinkling eyes lingered on Harry and Pansy and the Weasley Twins, who had decided that post-box red was the colour for them, "Now, if I could ask you all to take your seats, then dinner will be served."

Harry glanced around. The other champions and their partners were taking seats at the table at the head of the hall. He began to lead Pansy over until his eyes fell on a neat head of ginger hair. Percy smiled at Harry expectantly, and motioned to the seat next to him. Grimacing, Harry veered sharply to the left, dragging Pansy along by the arm, and stole two seats next to the Weasley twins.

"Harry!" One twin exclaimed, grinning and throwing an arm around the younger boy's shoulders.

"How nice of you to-"

"Join us!" Harry raised an eyebrow in bemusement.

"Alright, what do you want?" he asked, grinning at the faux hurt looks on the prankster's faces.

"Harry!"

"You-"

"Wound us!" They cried, ignoring their dates who were rolling their eyes at the red head's antics. Harry pulled a cigarette from his trouser's pocket and was about to light it when Pansy snatched it away.

"Err... Panse? I can't smoke that if it's over there," he said hesitantly. Pansy raised one perfect eyebrow.

"That would be the point," she said primly, "I won't have you smoking over dinner, it's horribly common."

"Pansy, you're at this ball with _me, _for fuck's sake. If you wanted anything other than bloody common, why are you here?" Pansy didn't answer, choosing instead to purse her lips and send a terrible glare in Harry's direction before ignoring him and perusing the menu in front of her.

"Okay..." Fred (or George) said after a minute or two of silence had passed.

"This is awkward..." George (or Fred) finished.

"What did you guys want before I got told off, anyway?" Harry asked, displaying his oh-so-Gryffindor skills in tact and subtlety. Fred and George both instantly brightened, matching grins on their faces.

"Well-"

"We were just wondering if you had anything spare in that-"

"Hipflask you seem to carry everywhere." Harry sighed, and reluctantly pulled the flask from his trouser pocket. No-one bothered to ask him how exactly he had fit the flask and his pack of cigarettes in his pocket, considering how distractingly tight his trousers were- they weren't sure that they wanted to know the answer.

"Don't you dare drink it all though," he warned, "I'm going to need something to get me through this evening, by the looks of it." He flicked his eyes over at Pansy who sat primly in her chair and levelled him with a glare. She was beginning to wonder if this was worth it; sure, Harry was gorgeous, and sure, maybe Draco would treat her better after this, but did her date _have _to be so... _Gryffindor? _She sighed inwardly, asking herself for the first time why Harry had asked her at all. She looked over at her date again and saw him staring at someone across the hall. Automatically, she followed his line of sight.

_Draco?_ She frowned for a second, confused, before it clicked into place in her head.

_Oh. _


	35. Chapter 35

Disclaimer: Pfft. Sue me if you want. I'm too lazy to care right now.

A/N: Thankyou, thankyou, thankyou for all of the support to this story. It's lovely :)

Yes, this chapter is sort of short and I apologise for that. But in my defense, it's absolutely lovely outside right now, and you're lucky I wrote this at all instead of sunbathing and drinking cider like I should be doing in this weather. :D

On a side-note, I'm now finished at college and won't be starting university until October. So I have the whooooollleeeee summer stretched out ahead of me with nothing to do. Well, except work. Damn work.

Also, sorry if this gets a little angsty in places. I'm halfway through a one-shot that's kind of angsty, and I fear it may have spilled over onto this story. Soz!

Anyway, enjoy!

* * *

Pansy Parkinson had been daydreaming about this night for a little over a month now. All of her fantasies had followed the same basic plot; she dance, laugh, and be the envy of every other girl in the room. And at the end of the night, Draco would come crawling back, professing his undying love and begging her to give him a second chance.

Of course, all of her daydreams had forgotten one vitally important fact: she couldn't _stand _Harry Potter. It had slipped her mind when he had asked her (she reasoned in her head that it wasn't _her _fault that he was so good looking), and since then she had simply been refusing to acknowledge the fact.

But tonight, forced to spend almost the entire evening with him, it was sort of hard to ignore.

There was also the fact that he fancied her boyfriend. That was kind of annoying as well.

At the minute, almost halfway through the evening, she was sat alone at a table as her date had run off with his friends. They were currently in the midst of a very un-subtle drinking game, though the teachers didn't appear to have noticed, seeing as they were all rather tipsy themselves. Pansy sneered at the group of students, knocking back her own firewhiskey and wondering when she could leave.

"What the _fuck, _Pansy?" She turned her head slightly, cursing inwardly when she saw the tell-tale platinum blonde that identified Draco.

"What the fuck, what, Draco?" She asked in a husky voice, staring at him innocently with smoky eyes, "You didn't think he was all yours, did you, sweetie?" His face fell and she laughed. Several students from nearby tables turned to look at her, unnerved by the slightly hysterical edge to her laughter but she ignored them. She always had been a bit of a lightweight, and it seemed the firewhiskey was going straight to her head.

Draco sat down, a few strands of his blonde hair falling into his face before he impatiently brushed them away. He was dressed as the perfect pureblood son tonight, in elegantly cut robes of plain black, with his usually slicked back hair pulled into a braid at the nape of his neck. He must have used a spell to lengthen it, Pansy thought idly as she watched him gather the courage to talk. This could take a while, he didn't have much courage at all and that which he did have was scattered far and wide.

"He will _never _be all mine, Pansy. Never. So don't talk about things that you know _nothing _about." A crease appeared between Pansy's eyebrows as she watched him walk away. But then the firewhiskey kicked in and she laughed and she laughed and she laughed.

* * *

All the anger ebbed out of Draco as he walked away from Pansy. He had approached her in a rage, intent on screaming at her if he had to, to make her feel as bad as he did right now.

But then she had hit a cord and Draco (who fooled himself far better than he would ever fool anybody else) was fed up of lying. So Merlin help him, he admitted it to himself.

He fancied Harry bloody Potter. Probably had done since first year, since he had been the only boy worth having who Draco wasn't able to have. The only boy worth having to ever reject Draco.

And he would never have him. Oh, not because Potter didn't want it, Draco could see by his actions after that kiss that the Gryffindor wouldn't be totally against it all. But Lucius would kill them both. And Draco didn't want to die.

He was just a Slytherin, after all. And only Gryffindors died for love.

* * *

"Okay, okay," Harry muttered, grinning around at his friends, "Next time you see Flitwick checking out McGonagall you've got to take two shots." The group laughed and turned as one to watch their two teachers. Within minutes a great cheer went up.

"One!" Seamus called as they all downed their first shot, "Two!"

"Right, next," Dean started, and everyone leaned forwards to catch his words, though some were swaying slightly in their seats. A voice from behind him called Harry's name though and he forced his attention away from the group and turned to find Fleur and Blaise walking towards him.

"'Arry," Fleur greeted, allowing him to kiss her sloppily on the cheek, though she wrinkled her nose slightly at the smell of firewhiskey on his breath.

"Fleur! Blaise! And how are my darlings getting on?" Harry asked happily, a stupid grin pasted on his face as he waggled his eyebrows suggestively at them.

"You did realise that Fleur is three years older than me when you set us up, didn't you?" Blaise asked, amusement dancing in his eyes. Harry's grin dropped, his mouth forming a silent 'oh' before he cracked up laughing.

"Oh, Fleur, you cradle robber!" he gasped out, in between mad cackles.

"Yes, yes, 'Arry," Fleur said, rolling her eyes before turning to Blaise, "Are you sure 'e ees not too drunk for thees?" Blaise sighed, rubbing his eyes and turning to see that Draco had almost made it out of the room.

"He'll have to do," the Slytherin muttered, hauling a still-laughing Harry to his feet and beginning to drag the boy after his best friend, "He's all we've got."

* * *

Harry had no idea what was going on. One minute he had been laughing at Fleur and Blaise (though he couldn't for the life of him remember why) and the next minute Blaise was calling to the retreating form of Draco Malfoy, who turned around just in time to have Harry shoved towards him.

"What the- Potter?" Draco asked as he caught the grinning Gryffindor.

"'Allo Drakey!" Harry exclaimed, before bursting into laughter again.

"What is this?" Draco asked, turning to Blaise with a frown on his face. But Blaise had already left, disappearing back into Great Hall, leaving Draco alone in an empty corridor with an extremely drunk Harry Potter. Who right now was slumped in the blonde's arms, singing 'Drakey, Drakey, Drakey-poo!' over and over again under his breath. Draco sighed; he really wasn't in the mood for this. All of his usual anger and bravado and smug self-satisfaction had drained out of him with those few words from Pansy. And now he had the subject of his melancholy thrust upon him.

_Oh, Merlin. _He _really _didn't want to die. He _knew _that. So why wasn't he able to just walk away from Harry Potter right then?

Instead, he hefted Harry into his arms a bit better and snagged the boy's hip flask, taking a long drink. If he was going to get through this night, you better believe he was going to be drunk.

"Come on, Harry," he muttered, "Let's get you some fresh air."

* * *

"So," Remus began, smiling at his companions across the dinner table, "What do you think the kids are getting up to?" Molly and Arthur smiled fondly, imagining a night of dancing and laughter, a few pranks maybe, and bed before midnight.

Sirius snorted into his eggnog, thinking that his godson was probably putting good use to that never-empty hip flask of his.

Dobby didn't react to the question, having fallen asleep about half an hour before. House elves, as it turned out, were enormous light weights.

"Oh, I'm sure they'll be having the time of their lives," Molly sighed happily.


	36. Chapter 36

A/N: Okay, first things first, I know what you're all going to say. yes, this chapter is another short one. I apologise, but I'm lazy and unmotivated. Get over it. :D

Being rude to my readers out of the way, I have to say that I am really very grateful for all of the support for this story. It honestly means a lot, and whilst I may not respond to every review, I read (and love) them all.

Hopefully I'll have another chapter up pretty soon, but no promises :) Soz and all that.

Enjoy!

* * *

Harry groaned as the light hit his closed eyes, disagreeing firmly with his hangover. A soft breeze ruffled his hair into his face, sending shivers down his spine. Instinctively, he huddled back into the warm arms enveloping him, taking comfort in them as they shielded him from the cold.

"Are you awake?" a familiar voice murmured and Harry forced himself to swim further forward into consciousness to answer it.

"Mmhm," he managed, idly wondering where he knew the voice from.

"We should be getting back indoors, before we get pneumonia," the voice said and Harry frowned. Indoors? Why were they not indoors? He cracked one eye open and peered at his surroundings. There was white. A _lot _of white. And were those... trees?

"Why are we outside?" he asked groggily, turning around in the warm arms.

"Because that is where you fell asleep," Draco answered, quirking an amused eyebrow at the Gryffindor. Harry stared at him, his hung-over brain struggling to compute the information in front of him. But then it clicked.

"Fuck a donkey, you're Draco Malfoy!" he exclaimed, leaping to his feet. Snow crunched under his dragon skin boots and he shivered; out of Draco's arms it was a hell of a lot colder, especially as he only had on what he had been wearing the night before. Draco quirked an eyebrow, an amused smirk playing around his lips.

"After four years, you've finally learnt my name. Well done. Now, can we please go inside and get some breakfast before I freeze to death?" Harry frowned, still at a loss as to what was going on.

"Whoa, mate. Wait a minute," Harry held out his hand as Draco stood up, in an effort to stop the blonde from walking away, "You're not going anywhere. What the bloody fuck happened last night that I woke up in your arms in the middle of the grounds? Why are you being nice to me? Why didn't you just leave me out here to freeze? Oh, and while we're at it, I've been thinking and why the hell do you have half a ton of pictures of you and Blaise and Andromeda in the muggle world? And why have you been avoiding me? And why are you _fucking smiling?_" For Draco had begun to smile halfway through Harry's list of questions, and by the time the Gryffindor had finished it was a full blown grin. Draco couldn't help it though; he was reminded all too much of his own demands for answers that night at the owlery.

"One at a time, Potter, or I won't answer a thing," he smirked, wondering if Harry would remember their other conversation. It took a minute to sink in, during which time Harry frowned, annoyed, at Draco. But then a look of comprehension set in, and Harry sighed.

"Fine. Make fun of me. But give me some fucking answers, would you?" Draco nodded and began walking at a slow pace towards the castle without looking back, assuming correctly that Harry would fall into step beside him.

"Of course. I'll give you answers. But you have to know that you asked all the wrong questions just now," the look on Draco's face was smug and Harry tried his hardest not to allow it to rile him up. He failed, of course, but managed to keep his retaliation to a nasty scowl.

"My father beats me. He curses me and hexes me and occasionally locks me in my room for weeks on end with nothing to do but read the dark arts books he leaves me with," Draco began in a distant voice, the smug look falling off of his face. Harry may have slept the night through, but Draco hadn't. He had stayed awake, staring at the boy in his arms, casting warming charms and thinking. About Harry, his father, his Aunt Andy. About the Dark Lord and the dark arts and Harry. He had known this conversation was to come (although he considered more than once or twice the option of leaving before Harry awoke and avoiding it altogether) and he knew that if he didn't say all of this now, he would never say it at all. He was not a Gryffindor (thank Merlin) and would never pretend (even to himself) that he had the kind of courage they possessed.

"I started running to my Aunt Andy pretty early on. Lucius doesn't know it, but she and my mother stayed in touch occasionally, and she seemed to like me. I was young and scared and she was my only option. She didn't mind looking after me and soon started to take me and Blaise out, in the muggle world of course, so that we wouldn't be recognised. She gave us a childhood.

"Then I started Hogwarts and you wouldn't be my friend. You were my way out of it all. But that didn't work," Draco chuckled bitterly, "In fact, it's probably good that it didn't. Lucius would probably have killed me that first Christmas. Not that he won't now anyway."

"What do you mean? He's your father- he won't kill you," Harry said, confused. Families died for you, they didn't kill you. Okay, so they sometimes beat you and starved you and locked you in cupboards, but that wasn't proper families. Not like he had thought Draco's was.

"Yes, he would," Draco snapped, before abruptly changing the subject, "I told Lucius about Sirius in the holidays." Harry tensed up; it was a mark of how hung over he was that he couldn't be bothered to yell at Draco about it.

"I know," he said shortly instead.

"I thought it would make him happy with me for a while. It didn't." Harry nodded, trying to keep his inner Sirius restrained whilst allowing his inner Hermione free reign. He, Harry, would never have betrayed another to try and save his own skin. But Draco was different; he didn't have that courage, that strength of mind that Harry had always possessed in buckets, and Harry had to remember that. People were not perfect, and he had to stop thinking that they should be.

"For the record, I think it's kind of fucked up," Harry muttered, "But I get why you did it. What I still don't get is why I woke up in your arms."

"Oh. Yeah," Draco blinked in slight shock. He had almost forgotten about that, lost in thought (and fear) of his father. "You got completely wasted last night, and Fleur and Blaise thrust you upon me. I brought you outside for some air, to try and sober you up a bit and you fell asleep. I didn't have much of a choice."

"Well," Harry grinned, trying to lighten the mood up, "You had quite a lot of choices really. You could've thrown me in the lake. Or left me in the forest. But you chose to cuddle. I think that's a sign." Draco rolled his eyes, before turning and planting a kiss firmly on Harry's lips.

Harry's eyes went almost comically wide for a second before he was kissing back. It was messy, and it was desperate and it was anything but gentle but it was so perfectly _them _that neither boy really minded.

Draco didn't quite freeze to death outside that morning, but he never got his breakfast either.


	37. Chapter 37

A/N: I apologise for the wait between chapters these days, but, as I explained to one very understanding reviewer, I've been spending a lot of time at the pub and not much time at my laptop. Soz!

I also feel that I should explain that I was drunk when I created my chapter plan. It's a long, rambling word document in which I call Harry 'hazzer-p', Draco 'd-boy'. So if you spot any inconsistencies, or have any _constructive _criticism (other than the chapters being too short- I know, already! :D) please feel free to tell me about them so I can attempt to fix them.

Anyway, thanks everyone for supporting this fic, as always, it really does mean a lot to me.

Enjoy!

* * *

"Huh."

"Sirius? You gonna say something other than 'huh'? I tell you I'm going out with Draco fucking Malfoy and I punched Ron in the face and all you can say is 'huh'?"

"Huh." Harry sighed and cut off the connection, throwing his mirror aside as Sirius's face faded from view. It was the day after Boxing Day and so far, Harry reflected, it was pretty crap. And it was all bloody Ron's fault.

Of course, they had sort of announced their relationship rather badly the day before, by walking into the Great Hall in the middle of Boxing Day lunch holding hands and laughing.

"_I still can't believe you stole Dobby from Lucius," Draco laughed, smiling up at Harry as they walked through the Entrance Hall. It bugged him slightly that Harry was taller than he was; stupid growth spurts. His mother swore to him that his would come soon though. _

"_It was pretty fucking genius of me, I have to admit," Harry said, mock-pompously, "And now he's living with Siri and Remus. Last time I spoke to him he was learning that 'i comes before e, except after c'." Draco gave him an odd look, and Harry was just about to explain about the reading and writing lessons when the students in the Great Hall snapped out of their shock, Ron at the lead. _

"_What the _hell _are you doing, Harry?" he yelled, his face a strange shade of purple, "He's a bloody Slytherin, for crying out loud!" Harry had never been said to have a long temper, not by anyone, and he demonstrated that fact right then._

"_Oh, fuck off, Ron! So what if he's a bloody Slytherin, if it weren't for you telling me that they were all evil when I was eleven, I would have been a fucking Slytherin too!" he shouted, dropping Draco's hand and striding towards his best friend._

"_Well maybe you should have been then, if you can bear to even touch the likes of _him," _Ron spat back, rising out of his seat. Both boys ignored the fact that they had the attention of every student in the room, even the teachers were too transfixed on the scene to do anything to split it up. _

Crack. _Harry's fist shot out, smashing into the redhead's nose before anyone could blink. Ron staggered backwards, holding a hand to his bleeding nose and staring at Harry with disbelief and betrayal clear on his face. _

"_Who the hell are you?" he muttered. Harry took a few steps backwards in shock before turning and storming out of the hall, not stopping until he reached the astronomy tower, where he whipped his mirror out to call Sirius. _

Harry sighed, holding his head in his hands as he tried to think of anything other than the hurt look on his best friend's face. He couldn't believe he'd punched Ron. I mean, Ron was _Ron. _His best friend, his _first _friend, other than Hagrid. But... when he'd talked about Draco that way, Harry had just snapped.

_Was Draco worth losing a friend over? _Harry brushed away that thought as soon as it entered his mind. He wouldn't lose Ron. He couldn't.

As to whether or not Draco was worth it, well. He was a whiny brat and they'd fought constantly for three years and he was much too clever for his own good sometimes (not quite as bad as Hermione, but getting there) but there was still just something about him that drew Harry to him. Perhaps it was just because Draco brought an extra layer of chaos to Harry's life (and Harry seemed to thrive on that, these days) or perhaps it was something else, something more uniquely Draco, but Harry didn't much care.

"Potter," the drawling voice of Professor Snape said from the doorway. Harry sighed loudly and audibly into his hands in the hope that the man would go away.

"Mr Potter, I do not care if you are having a tantrum, you will stand up and not ignore me when I speak to you," Snape snapped. Harry sighed again, but softly this time and he climbed to his feet. His leather trousers squeaked as he stood, and he idly thought that he really should change his clothes and shower at some point. Never one to let Snape win, he pulled a pack of cigarettes and a lighter from his pocket, knowing full well that his potions professor hated his smoking.

"If this is about punching Ron, then I'll take the detentions, don't worry," Harry muttered, unconsciously hanging his head slightly. Snape raised an eyebrow.

"Actually, Potter, this is about you and my godson," he said silkily, "If you dare hurt him in any way, shape or form, or if you are playing with him in any way then you may just find an untraceable poison in your morning pumpkin juice. Or perhaps your morning firewhiskey, as it is you we're talking about." Harry smirked and nodded, admitting nothing, but denying nothing either. Hey, sometimes he needed a little pick me up in the mornings. Nothing wrong with that.

"Fair enough." Snape nodded curtly and turned to leave.

"Oh, and Potter?" he called over his shoulder, "Who would've thought- you kissing a Malfoy. James is probably rolling in his grave."

"Yeah, well, at least I didn't kiss Bill," Harry shot back, smirking when his professor's eye twitched.

"It was Peeves, for fuck's sake!" Snape screamed before turning and sweeping out of the room.

"Wait, you've snogged Peeves as well?" Harry yelled after him, "Snape, you stud!" An incoherent scream of rage was the only answer Harry received.

Greatly cheered up, he strolled out the door, cigarette dangling from his lips and marauders map in hand. It was time to find that boyfriend of his again. And some lunch. And then that elusive shower, maybe.

* * *

Draco Malfoy was sat in his dorm, wondering who he hated more out of Ron Weasley and his father when an owl dropped a letter onto his lap. Turning it over with shaking hands, his worst fears were confirmed by the Malfoy crest on the back.

Lucius knew. And they were both dead.

He couldn't stop the thought from coming, though he tried with all his might to have faith in Harry's abilities. His own were slightly questionable (although he would never admit it to anyone, his talents lay in Potions and academics- not in fighting) but Harry had fought off the Dark Lord. Surely he'd be able to protect them if Lucius came after them. Well, if he still wanted to be with Draco once he knew.

What if Harry didn't want another madman after him? What if he couldn't handle that kind of baggage?

But no, Harry knew the sort of man his father was, this wouldn't come as a surprise to him.

He hoped.

"Ahem," Blaise cleared his throat, lounging against the doorframe. Draco looked up, realising that he had been staring at the letter for a good ten minutes. Hurriedly, he shoved it into his pocket before turning back to his friend.

"I guess you're here to say I told you so?" he drawled, trying to hide any trace of panic and fear in his voice.

"No, actually," Blaise answered, "Although, now you mention it, I told you so." Draco rolled his eyes at Blaise's grin. "No, I'm here in my official capacity as a messenger owl. Pansy wants you to know that you're an asshole and she never wants to speak to you again. You and Potter really fucked her over, huh?" Draco groaned, burying his face in his hands. This was _supposed _to be a happy day. Full of happiness and Harry and ignoring the world outside, but _no. _Ron and Lucius and now fucking Pansy had to come and ruin it. Because Merlin forbid Draco be anything other than miserable for too long a stretch of time, the universe might implode. Not that Draco knew what that meant, not knowing muggle science, but it sounded impressive.

"You're the one who bloody shoved him at me," the blonde grumbled through his fingers, scowling when Blaise chuckled.

"Yep. But Luna's the one who told me to do it. Anyway, was that a letter from your father?"

"I think so." Draco's voice was small, unwillingly betraying some of the fear he felt when he thought of what the letter could say. He ignored the fact that he had tried to hide the letter; Blaise always was, and always would be uncannily observant.

"You want me to read it first?" Blaise offered. It was a mark of their friendship that Draco didn't instantly become defensive, instead meekly pulling the crumpled letter out of his pocket and held it out. Blaise deftly slit the seal, cutting the Malfoy crest in half, and began reading.

_Draco, _it read,

_There are two reasons, and two reasons only, that you could have been seen leaving the castle with Harry Potter last night. One is that you lured him out there to kill him for our Lord. However, you have always been a disappointment so I don't dare to even hope that this is the truth. _

_The only other reason I can see is that you have formed some sort of attachment to the boy. This, as I'm sure you know, is unforgiveable. _

_The mark is getting darker, _son, _our Lord is getting stronger. And now, now you're on the losing side. _

_You best hope I have mercy and kill you myself._

_Lucius_

Blaise stopped reading and looked at Draco, who stared back at him with weary, frightened eyes.

"I think we need to go see Dumbledore."


	38. Chapter 38

A/N: Thank you everyone for the reviews and such, it's lovely to wake up with a hangover only to see that I have an inbox full of reviews/faves/alerts :)

I had thought that I was nearing the end of this story, but then I thought about it and realized that there's a LOT to go. Which is great and everything, but I have far too many little stories in the back of my mind just begging to be written. Maybe I'll just have to spend less time at the pub...

Anyway, hope you enjoy the chapter!

* * *

Albus Dumbledore was not often surprised. Even less often was a pleasant surprise. As of late, however, Harry Potter seemed to be the master of pleasant surprises. First he had managed to clear Sirius of all charges, a feat which Dumbledore had not even dreamed of achieving, and then he uncovered a Death Eater who had hidden right under their very noses.

And now, now he had achieved what Dumbledore himself had not been able to. He had convinced Draco Malfoy that he was more important than the Dark Arts.

Many had mistaken the shine to Dumbledore's eyes as his usual twinkle that lunchtime, but in reality he had been unable to stop the tears from welling up in his eyes.

Love really was the most amazing thing, he mused, gently stroking Fawkes' head. He was about to get up and make some tea when the wards around his office twinged, informing him of the arrival of Draco Malfoy and Blaise Zabini.

"Come in," he called, a slight frown settling on his forehead. He very much hoped this was not what he suspected.

"Headmaster," Blaise greeted cordially, whilst Draco only managed a jerky nod in his direction. Without a word, Dumbledore waved Fawkes across to the young Slytherin. She swept across the office and landed on Draco's shoulder, where he stared at her in amazement. The fear began receding from his eyes and his shoulders relaxed as the phoenix began to softly sing.

"Lemon drop?" Dumbledore offered, unsurprised when both boys declined. Wizards in general never seemed very interested in muggle sweets. "Now, what can I do for you boys?" Blaise looked across at Draco, already knowing that the other boy would be looking at him with pleading in his eyes.

"It's about Draco's father," Blaise began.

* * *

"Harry!" The boy in question turned in the hallway, marauder's map in one hand, cigarette in the other. He _really _hadn't paid any attention when the headmaster had told him that smoking in the castle was against school rules. Then again, he was almost certain that alcohol was also banned, and that he was supposed to wear his school uniform on weekdays. He probably wasn't meant to punch people quite as much, either, now he came to think about it.

"Where are you going?" Neville asked, having jogged down the corridor to reach Harry.

"To see Draco," Harry answered, giving Neville a curious glance, "How come you're talking to me though?"

"Huh? Why wouldn't I be talking to you? And where's Malfoy? Can I come? I'm trying to escape Ron and Hermione, you see."

"You don't care that I want to fuck Draco Malfoy?" he asked crudely.

"Well, I'm not thrilled with it- you're far too good for him from what I can see. And he is an asshole. But then, maybe he has hidden depths. But it doesn't really matter what I think of him anyway because it's your choice," Neville explained, "Besides, I'm your friend. Friends don't abandon each other just because they don't like who the other one is dating, for Merlin's sake." Harry grinned; a real, true grin that he couldn't possibly stop from appearing on his face. A burden that he hadn't known he was carrying was suddenly lifted off of his shoulders; he hadn't lost everyone after all.

"Fuck, Neville, you _really _should've been a 'puff," Harry chortled, "In the very best possible way," he hastened to add at the slightly offended look Neville was giving him.

"Oh, awesome," Neville smiled. They carried on in silence for a little while, unsurprised that they saw very few students passing them. Most everyone had retired to their respective common rooms for the evening.

"So, uhh... where is Malfoy then?" Neville asked as they turned another corner.

"Dumbledore's office."

"Oh." Neville knew better than to ask if it was wise to interrupt the Slytherin when he was talking to the headmaster; Harry had never exactly cared about whether something was wise or not.

They turned another two corners and Harry stopped in front of a gargoyle.

"Err... fizzing whizbees? Sugar quills? Chocolate frog?" Neville had been looking at Harry like he had turned mad but when the gargoyle slid aside for 'chocolate frog' he raised his eyebrows in understanding.

"Honestly... shitty passwords... anyone can guess them..." Harry was muttering under his breath as they mounted the moving staircase. As they reached the top, the voice of Blaise Zabini floated over to them.

"And so now he's basically threatened to kill Draco," he was saying. Poor Neville didn't have time to blink before Harry was through the door and demanding answers. Repressing a sigh, he followed his friend, closing the door behind him.

* * *

"And so now he's basically threatened to kill Draco," Blaise finished.

"Who has? I'll fucking kill them! Blaise! Who was it?" Harry all but yelled, bursting through the door, his wand already in his hand.

"Harry, please calm down," Dumbledore said gently, his piercing blue eyes fixed on the young Gryffindor.

"No! If some asshole is threatening Draco I want to fucking know who! And I want to hurt them," Harry insisted, a nasty sneer on his face, his fists clenched by his side.

"Harry," the headmaster said firmly, anger flashing across his eyes for a second before he reined in it, "If you sit down we will, with the permission of Mr Malfoy of course, explain the situation." Harry huffed, but the rush of anger he had felt slowly ebbed out of him and he slumped down into the chair next to Draco who was looking at him with a very strange expression on his face.

"Hello Professor Dumbledore, Zabini, Malfoy," Neville greeted them all, making his presence known, "Umm... this sounds kind of serious, so I can go if you want?"

"You can stay, Longbottom," Draco stopped staring at Harry long enough to say. He sounded weary beyond belief, and more than a little confused. "How did you know I was here?" This Draco directed at Harry who waved the aged parchment in his hand at him.

"The Marauder's map," he explained shortly, "Now who's trying to bloody kill you already?"

"Not actually trying to, yet anyway," Blaise cut in, seeing that Draco still didn't want to talk about it, "Only threatening. And it's Lucius."

"Fucking Lucy! First Sirius, now this. You have no idea how much I want to punch that wanker," Harry ranted, gripping the edges of his chair.

"Harry I must ask that you calm down or leave," Dumbledore warned, and Harry forced the anger to leave his body. "Thank you. Now, I think the first thing for us to do is remove you from your father's reach for the rest of the holidays. I am sure you are aware that parents have the ability to withdraw their children from school at any time?"

Draco nodded shakily. Harry frowned, he had been so focused on Lucius that he hadn't realised that Draco might need comforting. Without speaking, he reached over and gently laced his fingers into the blonde's, who immediately grabbed onto his hand.

"I would suggest that after we have removed you from Hogwarts for the time being, we take the letter to the Madame Bones, and ask her to retract this right for Lucius Malfoy on the grounds of unfit parenting."

"Does that mean that Draco will be legally disowned?" Blaise asked, his eyes narrowing slightly. If that was true then his friend would not be happy, and Blaise knew it. He just hoped the blonde wanted Harry more than he wanted the money.

"No. He will still be the legal heir, only his parents can change that, although it is likely that they will do so. This simply means that he is not allowed contact with Draco whilst Draco is at Hogwarts," Dumbledore explained gently.

"What about the summer holidays?" Surprisingly, the next question came from Neville, and Draco was so shocked he snapped out of his blank state for a second.

"Why do you even care, Longbottom?" he asked, a sneer almost finding its way into his voice before Harry squeezed his hand. Huh, he thought idly, perhaps there was a chance of Harry learning the art of subtlety after all.

"Because Harry is my friend and if you die, he'll be annoyed," Neville answered simply with a shrug. Dumbledore bit back a snort of laughter.

"We will think of a plan for that nearer the time. For now I think the main priority is getting you out of Hogwarts for the rest of the holidays, Mr Malfoy. Is there anyone you can go to?"

"Grimmauld Place," Harry said suddenly, "Siri won't mind, and I can come with you, obviously. Hell, Neville and Blaise could come as well if they wanted. It's under Fidelius so Lucy wouldn't be able to get to you." He looked hopefully at Draco, who nodded shakily.

"Okay," the blonde said, looking to the headmaster to check that this would be acceptable.

"Yes, I should think that would be satisfactory, as long as Sirius consents, of course," Dumbledore agreed, after a shrewd look at the young Malfoy, "I suggest you go and pack your things and then meet back up here. You can use the floo from my office to Grimmauld Place."

"And you will contact Madame Bones?" Blaise asked as they all stood from their seats.

"I will owl her whilst you pack, requesting a meeting for first thing tomorrow morning. If you would leave a copy of the letter with me before you leave, that would be helpful," Dumbledore said gently.

"Thank you, headmaster," Draco whispered, sounding as though the words were actually painful to say.

"It is my pleasure, Mr Malfoy."

* * *

Later that night...

Remus looked up from the book he was reading at the kitchen table as a young teen with shocking blonde hair tumbled out of the fireplace.

"Umm... Sirius!" He yelled, "Is there supposed to be a Malfoy in the house?"

"A _WHAT_?"


	39. Chapter 39

A/N: Woahhh I haven't updated this story in ages. And... I have no excuses, really. Soz, and all that.

Anyway, thank you very much for all the lovely reviews and such. I write for myself, really, but reviews are a very very lovely bonus :)

And I hope you enjoy the chapter!

(Oh, and the first chapter of a new story called 'The Thunder in her Blood' is up on my profile now. Hint hint, nudge nudge)

* * *

Lucius Malfoy was spending his evening glaring at his wife. This was something he had been doing a lot lately, ever since he had discovered that his disappointment of a son was not only gay but going out with Harry Potter. Well, to be more accurate, it was since about five minutes after that discovery when he got over the shock and decided to blame Narcissa for the entire thing. After all, she had always pampered the boy, given him everything he whined for and told him that she loved him almost daily. _He, _on the other hand, had tried to beat some sense into the boy. Weekly crucios were good for one's mental health; they _should _have given the boy some backbone. But no, that whiny, pathetic, Potter-loving boy Lucius used to call his son couldn't even do that right.

Narcissa, for her part, was glaring right back. Although her glare was a little bleary and so it was far less intimidating. The reason for this was that she had started drinking as soon as she saw the letter that her husband planned on sending to their only son and she hadn't yet stopped, although it was almost a week later. She knew what her husband was like, of course, and in certain aspects she agreed with his views and his actions. But when it came to their son, she just couldn't turn a blind eye anymore. She had tried to ignore what he was doing to Draco, tried to make up for her husband's mistakes and crucios with love and indulgence. She just wanted her family to stay together, and constantly arguing with Lucius over his treatment of their son would not help anything, she thought. But written death threats? Actually wishing that Draco would be caught and killed by Voldemort? That was something she simply could not ignore, however much she wished she could.

And so, locked in their glaring match as they were, neither noticed the snowy owl fly into the room until it dropped a letter into Lucius's lap. Cautiously, the aging blonde picked up the letter, eyes narrowing in suspicion when he saw the Black seal on the back.

"Ish probab...probably jush Andromeda," Narcissa slurred, swirling her wine glass, making the liquid inside slop over the edges, "Stop bein susch a drama queen." She paused for a second before bursting out laughing in high, hysterical giggles that could be heard all the way to the kitchens, and made several house elves quiver with fright.

"Indeed," Lucius replied, eyeing his wife nervously. Although she rarely displayed her talents, she was a formidable witch when she wanted to be, and he was slightly worried that she might start drunkenly throwing hexes around if he said the wrong thing. Of course he could take her in a normal duel, he would never have married a woman whom he could not. But the alcohol made her unpredictable, and so rather more dnagerous than she usually was. Putting the matter of his wife to the back of his mind for the moment, however, he deftly slit open the envelope with a perfectly manicured finger nail.

_BANG! POOF! SPLATTER!_

Lucius blinked rapidly as the smoke started to clear. His sitting room was now covered in blobs of multicoloured paint. And not only his sitting room, he discovered, as he laid eyes on his wife, but Narcissa as well. A horrible thought occurred to him and he gingerly raised a hand to his hair, tears welling up in his eyes when his fingers came back covered in purple and red paint.

Then he looked properly at his fingers and a high pitched scream ripped from his throat. Where before had been a perfectly manicured hand, now lay long, elegant fingers with blackened, fungal nails on the ends of them.

It was all too much for poor Lucius and he fainted dead on the carpet.

Eventually, the house elves worked up the courage to investigate the strange sounds and walked into the room to find their master covered in paint lying on the floor with the worst fungal nail infection that they had ever seen and their mistress lounging on the sofa, sipping from a glass of what appeared to be mostly pink and yellow paint and giggling to herself.

Needless, to say, they backed out of the room and went to do some dusting in an attempt to calm themselves down. The manor had never looked so clean.

* * *

Mad-Eye Moody grinned as he stood in the hospital corridor. He had just been discharged from St. Mungo's, but that wasn't the reason for his good cheer. In the room in front of him (the door was shut and warded, of course, but Moody's eye could see through basically anything) was a sight the old auror never thought he'd be lucky enough to see.

Lucius Malfoy lay on a hospital bed, covered from head to toe in brightly coloured paint. His hands were wrapped in bandages and his arms were strapped to the bed by his wrists. His eyes were open but unseeing as he stared at the ceiling.

Moody chuckled as he thought of what the nurse had told him, stifling a giggle as she did so. Of course, the situation was supposed to be top secret, but even Moody was better liked than Malfoy, so he had no trouble wheedling it out of her. Who knew that the key to bringing Malfoy down was his own vanity?

Still grinning, he began limping away from Malfoy's room, heading to the hospital exit. He had already spent far too many months within its walls, and he was unwilling to extend that stay too much, even if it was for the pleasure of seeing Lucius like that. Besides, he had things to do, people to see, lessons to plan.

He almost couldn't wait to get back to Hogwarts, and begin teaching for real. That Potter kid in particular sounded promising; anyone who could see through a disguise as thorough as Barty Crouch's had been was somebody Moody wanted to know.

* * *

That Potter kid at that moment wasn't looking particularly promising. In fact, all he was looking was particularly asleep. Well, I suppose you could say that he looked particularly bruised as well, but anyway.

He was lying on the landing at the top of the stairs, his head hanging down the first step and soft snores issuing from his mouth. A nasty-looking cut ran down his forehead, slicing straight through his famous scar, and various bruises and grazes covered the rest of his body, most of which could be seen because all he was wearing was his leather pants from the Yule Ball. Still. Yes, he was gross and hadn't even showered since then. This was because, as usual, Sirius deemed other things (drinking, fighting, pranking Lucy) far more important than personal hygiene.

On the next floor down, the library door opened and Blaise stumbled out of it, still rubbing the sleep from his eyes. He was closely followed by Neville (yawning with a black eye) and a blonde woman who had introduced herself the night before as Ruby, and who they were assuming was Sirius's girlfriend.

"Well, I guess we found Harry," Neville chuckled, looking up at his friend before they all turned away and began trudging down to the kitchen. At the bottom of the stairs they found Draco (blood in his hair and dirt under his nails- possibly a first) slumped against a wall opposite the portrait of Sirius's mother. Directly underneath the portrait was a large black dog, curled up in what smelt like a puddle of his own piss. On closer inspection of the portrait, Neville decided that it was most definitely piss.

Wrinkling their noses, the trio carried on to the kitchen where they found Remus with a cup of coffee, a bar of chocolate, and a large book. He also had a split lip and a new ear piercing.

"Nice piercing, Remus," Ruby smiled, sitting at the table and thanking a hungover Dobby when he brought her coffee. Blaise watched the exchange with confusion, knowing that there was something wrong with the picture. Unfortunately, his usually quick mind seemed to be one reverse this morning.

"Thanks," Remus answered wryly, curling his lips up.

"You're a muggle though!" Neville suddenly burst out, and Blaise's eyes widened in realisation. Of course. Ruby just laughed.

"Yeah, I am," she said simply, "Harry and Padfoot let it slip the first night I met them. They were drunk of course, and I didn't believe them, thought they were just trying to impress me or some shit. But then over the weeks they let slip little other things and then one morning Dobby popped up and offered me breakfast. I thought I'd been slipped some shrooms the night before at first."

"Huh," Neville said intelligently, sitting down at the table and accepting the coffee Dobby brought over for him. Luckily, he was saved from having to carry on the conversation when Harry and Draco staggered through the door.

"Hey, guys," Harry slurred, collapsing into a seat and laying his head down on the table, only to sit up again speedily at the sting of the cut on his forehead against the table. "Err... where the fuck did that come from?" Clearly, intelligence was not a theme this morning.

"Some guy at the bar said Draco looked like a poof, you punched him and he bottled you," Remus summed up, his eyes never leaving the pages of his book.

"Huh."

"Here's your coffee, _master,_" Dobby drawled, slamming a mug down in front of Draco, spilling half of the drink onto the table before flouncing off back to the stove. Dobby hadn't been impressed when his old master had turned up the day before, and clearly a night of drinking with the boy (Dobby had been transfigured to look like a very short human. Well, a human lady to be precise. Sirius was the one who had done the transfiguring, and the rest were all too lazy to correct him) had done nothing to improve the house elf's opinion.

"You know what, Draco," Sirius's voice came from the doorway and they all turned to look at him, "If you want to stay here, we're really going to have to do something about your hair."

* * *

Lucius Malfoy may have been lying in his hospital bed, staring at the ceiling for the last few hours but that did not mean that the cogs in his brain hadn't been ticking over.

Draco. Potter. The Dark Lord.

Oh, yes. There was a plan to be had here, a very good plan indeed.


	40. Chapter 40

A/N: Oh, how good am I? Second chapter in only a few days.

Oh, and I forgot to thank RRW for the idea of messing with Lucius's hair, which I stole and used in the last chapter. So thank you :D

And so, without further ado...

* * *

"What? Why? What's wrong with my hair?" Draco's hand automatically came up to pat his head, checking for abnormalities in his normally perfect sheet of white blonde hair.

"Well..." Harry began hesitantly, "It's kind of... shit. And far too fucking much like Lucy's. I mean, do you lot just live in the bloody 15th century or something?" Draco's eyes narrowed and even Harry, in his hung-over state, had the good sense to be afraid. Sirius was sniggering in the background.

"Well then, what would you suggest?" the young Malfoy asked, waspishly. If Harry had had more sense, he would have backed down right then, pretended he had been joking and that he loved his new boyfriend's hair. Unfortunately for him, however, he didn't.

"Cut it. A lot," he said simply, following it up with an indignant "What? I'm not a hairdresser!" when Draco glared at him disbelievingly.

"So to sum up, you've all decided that my hair sucks, but you have no idea what to do with it?" he asked, a distinct whine in his voice. Blaise grinned; finally _his _Draco was coming out. It was probably just because he was hung-over and still emotionally fragile from his father's letter, but it didn't matter. The mask might finally be coming off.

"Yep," Harry said happily, taking a big slurp from his coffee cup and yelping when it burned the top of his mouth. Remus, being the sensible type he was, began to worry about whether or not that hit to the head had knocked some of Harry's remaining sanity out of him.

"You know what, I _do _know a really good hairdresser," Ruby piped in, seeing the young blonde begin to pout, playing with strands of his hair sadly.

"Okay, but I seriously need a shower before we go anywhere," Harry said firmly, glaring at his godfather both because it was Padfoot's fault that Harry stunk to high heaven and because he could sense a 'Sirius/serious' joke coming on.

"Come on then, off you trot, pup," Sirius said, pushing his godson out the door and towards the stairs.

"What's the bloody rush? And how are you the only one without a hang-over?" Harry queried, wincing at the pain in his head.

"I'm boooored," Sirius whined, "And I think I'm still drunk to be honest. Now go!"

* * *

An hour later, a newly clean and freshly-clothed Harry Potter was walking down a dingy alleyway with what Sirius had drunkenly and happily dubbed 'The Grimmauld Place Crew', after his original suggestion of 'The Lucy is a Stupid Ugly Inbred Motherfucker With the Brain Capacity of a Mole Who Likes to Hump Fish Crew' was turned down on the grounds that it was a) too long and b) too weird.

"Are you sure it's down here?" Neville asked nervously, fingering his wand in his pocket. And no, no that is not a euphemism.

"Yeah, it looks like a dive, but he's the best hairdresser in London, I swear. And put that away," Ruby scolded Neville, "Honestly, it's a wonder all us muggles haven't figured out about you lot, you're not exactly subtle are you?" Luckily, Ruby was saved from the mass of indignant protests by their arrival at a bright blue door with a sign saying 'Legs, now open'.

"Ladies first," Sirius announced, opening the door and gesturing for Harry to go through.

"Why thank you, sir," Harry replied in a high voice as he waltzed through the door, "It's a shame you're so old or you'd be a right good catch."

"Oi!" Sirius protested, cuffing his cheeky godson round the back of the head.

"May I help you?" a deep, amused voice asked. There was a moment of silence as the two wizards simply stared at the man behind the counter, identical grins on their faces. The others filed in behind them just in time to hear them say, almost in perfect unison:

"Fuck, that's good hair." And it was. Shaved on one side, shoulder length on the other with a short, choppy fringe, it was blue with green and purple slices. The man himself was dark skinned and handsome, though he had several scars on his face and neck.

"You know, sometimes you two are so similar it's scary," Ruby told them, pushing her way to the front. "Hey, Dwayne." Dwayne smiled warmly, reaching around the counter to give the blonde girl a hug and a kiss on the cheek.

"Ruby," he greeted, "To what do I owe the pleasure?" Reaching into the crowd behind her, Ruby grabbed hold of Draco and yanked him forward.

"Oh Christ, I see what you mean," Dwayne said immediately, staring at the scowling teen with barely disguised disgust. "What, is this the 15th century, mate?"

"Bloody hell, do you know who you're talking to?" Draco burst out, "If he hears about this, my father will-" All the blood drained out of Draco's face and the group stood around awkwardly for a minute, none looking at the others except from Dwayne who stood behind the counter with his eyebrows raised in curiosity. Finally, the young blonde breathed out an enormous sigh and stomped over to sit at one of the stations. "Don't you dare dye my hair. Other than that, do what you like." He sounded weary but determined and Harry smiled, bounding over to ruffle his boyfriend's hair and give him a kiss on the forehead.

"Atta boy, love," he said happily.

"Right, this could take a while, I'm warning you all now," Dwayne said as he took out his scissors and began eyeing Draco critically in the mirror.

"But I'm bored already," Sirius whined and the group heaved a collective sigh.

"Take him shopping or something, would you Ruby?" Harry pleaded.

"Yeah, alright then. Anyone else coming?" She looked at Remus hopefully, but he shook his head with a smile, taking a seat next to Harry. Neville and Blaise both made noises of agreement though, to Harry and Draco's surprise.

"See you later, fuckers!" Sirius called cheerfully as he almost ran out of the door, the others following at a more sedate pace.

"Right," Dwayne said happily, "This is what we're going to do."

* * *

Later that evening, the elder Malfoy was in a far more perilous situation than that of his son. His hair and skin still multicoloured, and his nails still infected, he knelt on the hard floor of the old Riddle mansion, with the spirit of his master before him.

"Lucius," Voldemort spoke, drawing out the 's', making it almost a hiss, "You have been gone so long."

"I am sorry, My Lord, I have only just discovered your location. If I had heard even a hint of where you may be before this I would have-"

"There have been more than hints, more than rumours! Why then, is it that Wormtail here could find me whilst you could not?" Wormtail quivered in the corner, terrified of being noticed. Being noticed usually meant he was going to be punished, and he had no wish for that to happen.

"I tried, My Lord, I tried!" Lucius wailed.

"Crucio," Voldemort hissed calmly, and whilst it wasn't up to his usual standard, the curse was still enough to make his servant scream out in pain as he writhed on the floor. "No matter. You are here now. I trust that you bring me good news?"

"The best, My Lord," the eldest Malfoy managed to croak, his throat raw from screaming. "My son, My Lord, though he is a traitorous little slime, has presented us a very easy way to get Harry Potter."

* * *

"I'm still not sure," Draco whined, running his fingers yet again over his new hair. Still white blonde, it had been shaved down both sides with a thick strip of hair left down the middle, which was roughly spiked up.

"You look fucking gorgeous," Harry announced, smirking at the annoyed look on his boyfriend's face.

"Don't worry, Draco," Remus said gently, "Strangely enough, it really does suit you." Draco looked up in surprise. He still wasn't quite used to how nice his ex-professor was to him, not when you took into account how much of a brat Draco had been to him last year.

"See, even Moony likes it! Now stop fussing and lets go to the pub," Harry declared, grabbing hold of Draco and Remus and dragging them down the street.

"But don't we have to meet Blaise and everyone?" Draco asked hopefully. He still hadn't gotten over last night and he wasn't yet convinced that more alcohol was the cure for that.

"They can meet us there. Besides, if I know Sirius at all, he's probably already there, already gotten into at least one fucking fight and is most definitely already pissed," Harry said happily.

"Is this really how they live?" Draco asked Remus as Harry bounded ahead.

"You kind of get used to it," the werewolf said kindly, though he had an amused sparkle in his eyes, "It's just how they are. They love it, the energy, the atmosphere, the fights, all of it. It's just how they let go, I suppose. And besides, they both deserve some fun, their lives haven't exactly been perfect. And neither have ours, so perhaps this is in our best interests as well." The young Slytherin looked resignedly up at Remus, who had a big grin on his face. Gryffindors, he thought, were most certainly a different species altogether.


	41. Chapter 41

Disclaimer: Harry Potter does not belong to me, and never will do. I am making no money out of this, which is unfortunate as I could do with the cash.

A/N: I'm terrible at uploading regularly. I have no defence, sorry. I meant to get this up earlier in the week, but then I decided I didn't like it and ended up rewriting the whole thing. Stupid me.

Anyway, thanks to all those who have read/reviewed etc. I don't think you really realise how important reviews are to writers until you write some stories yourself. They honestly do make my day (even the one that call me an emo faggot and to stop writing trash. I was giggling about that one for hours.) So thank you to those who review :D

Anyway, hope you enjoy the chapter!

* * *

_Dear Harry,_

_What exactly has gotten into you? You left in the middle of the night and didn't even bother telling us? I know we didn't react as we should have done, and I truly am sorry for that. But you did sort of spring it on us, not that that excuses anything. Especially not Ronald's behaviour._

_But if he makes you happy, then I'm alright with it, Harry, I really am. _

_Please write me back and let me know that you're alright and you're safe._

_Love From,_

_Hermione_

_P.S. And if you are alright and fine, then you'd better be doing your Christmas homework. I know for a fact that the only thing you've finished is that Defence project, and we have tons for Potions and Charms, not to mention that book we have to read for Transfiguration. _

_Harry,_

_Hey, mate, sorry about writing to you out of the blue and all that, but I tried to find you at school only to be told you'd gone home for the rest of the holidays._

_Look, I know you're not taking this competition seriously, and I don't blame you. But you didn't even get a clue to the next task, so I think it's only fair. _

_The second task is merpeople. Well, sort of. They're going to take something we'll 'sorely miss' and hide it in the lake. We have to go get it. _

_Just you know, thought you should know. _

_Cedric_

_P.S. The rest of the 'Puffs are missing you and Nev. It's just not a party without you punching Zacharias Smith and Nev dancing on the tables. _

_Harry,_

_We, as his unfortunate brothers, feel the need to apologise for Ron's behaviour. He is a prat of the highest order and by no means represents the opinions of the Weasley's as a whole (Mum said, and we quote 'oh, how sweet! It's so nice that Harry's found somebody at last'. You'd think you were a lonely, single middle aged man the way she was going on). _

_We agree with her, however, and wish you all the luck in your endeavours with Mr Malfoy. We do not promise not to prank him though, and we think you should know better than to expect so much of us. _

_We have some more products for you and Sirius to test. We've enclosed samples, but make sure to remember to document the effects properly, that report you turned in last time was utter shite. _

_Gred and Forge_

_Draco,_

_You're a complete and utter ass. This was supposed to be _my _plan to crush _you! _I can't believe you abandoned your family for him! You'd never even carry my books for me! I hate you, I hate you, I hate you!_

This last letter was unsigned and hard to read in places, blotched as it was with tears, but the handwriting was unmistakable (hearts on the 'i's. Only Pansy).

Draco sighed, feeling a familiar stab of jealousy as he watched Harry read through his own letters for the tenth time before he packed them away in his trunk with his other belongings. Draco supposed he should be thinking himself lucky that he hadn't received any more death threats from his father, especially since that prank Harry and Sirius had pulled on him, but he couldn't help but long for the sort of friends Harry had, friends who actually cared enough to write. He had Blaise, he knew, but Blaise was more like a brother than a friend.

Shaking his head to rid himself of his jealous thoughts, he picked up a few bits of clothing from the chair in the corner of their bedroom and unfolded them before refolding them and placing them in his trunk. He may have abandoned his family, as Pansy had put it, but it would take more than a week of living at Grimmauld Place and a haircut to break the habits almost all purebloods were brought up to have.

"Fuck, none of this shit is going to fit in here," Harry groaned, hands full of school books as he stared down at his already overflowing trunk.

"How have you managed to get so much extra stuff in a week, Harry?" Draco asked, looking around at all of his boyfriend's crap in amazement.

"I honestly have no fucking clue, love," Harry said, dumping what was in his hands on his bed. "Dobby?" he called. The tiny elf immediately popped into the room with an enormous grin on it's face.

"How can I help you, Mr Pup?" he asked gleefully. _Mr Pup? _Harry wondered bemusedly, _he's been spending far too much time around Sirius. _Harry gestured helplessly towards the mess on the bed.

"Err any chance of some help?" he asked pleadingly. Dobby bounced slightly on the balls of his feet, eyes widening with excitement.

"Oh, yes!" he squealed, "I will take care of everything!" Harry and Draco shared an amused glance as the elf chivvied them out of the door, but did so without protest.

"Hello boys, you all packed?" an exhausted Remus asked as he passed them in the hallway.

"Dobby's umm... taking care of it," Draco said, scratching the back of his head sheepishly. He was still very awkward about Dobby, remembering how he used to treat the elf.

"Good, good," Remus answered vaguely, leading them down a flight of stairs before disappearing into the library.

"What's wrong with him?" Draco asked, frowning after his ex-professor as they continued down to the kitchen.

"Full moon tomorrow night," Harry said shortly, trying not to remember his now-boyfriend's attitude to Remus the year before. By Draco's suddenly rather sheepish expression, he was doing exactly the same.

"Hey pup, you little shit!" Sirius greeted his godson merrily as they walked into the kitchen. He was sat at the head of the table leant back in his chair with his feet in Ruby's lap. A half empty bottle of firewhiskey sat between them, though by Sirius' state, it was fairly obvious who had drunk most of it.

"Alright, Pads?" Harry asked bemusedly, sitting down next to his godfather, "What's with the booze? It's only just ten. In the morning. This is a bit fucking early, even for you, mate." It appeared that this was the wrong thing to do, as a frown settled onto Sirius' face. He leant forward and beckoned for Harry to do the same.

"I've got a plan," he slurred, "I'm gonna kidnap you!" There was silence for a second and then Harry began to laugh. Sirius watched confused, along with Ruby and Draco, neither of whom knew what was going on.

"You're... going to..." Harry gasped out between bouts of laughter, "Kidnap me? Why?"

"It's not funny!" Sirius growled, but this did nothing to sober Harry's mood, merely setting off a fresh wave of giggles. "It isn't funny!" Sirius insisted again.

"Yes... it really fucking is... Pads!" Harry laughed, clutching his sides. Draco began to suspect that Sirius wasn't the only one who had been drinking this morning.

"Any chance you're planning on enlightening us as to _what _exactly is so funny?" Ruby asked, arching an eyebrow at the pair.

"Pads here wants to fucking kidnap me!" Harry said, fighting back the laughter that still threatened to spill out.

"What for?" Draco asked.

"_Because_," Sirius began, speaking slowly as though he were explaining something very obvious to a very dim person, "If I kidnap him then he'll be here. And not at Hogwarts."

"Why don't you want me to be at Hogwarts?" Harry asked, genuinely confused now, his earlier amusement completely forgotten.

"Because then you won't be here!" Sirius exclaimed, exasperated.

"Well, yeah," Harry answered, glancing pleadingly in Ruby and Draco's directions for help. He was terrible at dealing with drunk Sirius unless he himself was drunk. And, to be honest, he was still terrible at it then, he was just so out of it that he didn't realise.

"I think what he's trying to say is that he'll miss you," Ruby chipped in helpfully.

"No I fucking wasn't!" Sirius said indignantly, before plonking his chin into his hands and pouting, "Only a little bit. I'm still manly though." Harry bit his lip, trying with all his might not to laugh at his godfather, even if he was being ridiculous.

"Sirius, mate, I'll miss you too," he said instead, reaching over to grab the drunk, sulking middle-aged man's shoulder. Everybody was silent for a second before-

"Bloody poofs!" A squeaky voice said. Draco thought he caught a slight glimpse of Dobby disappearing through the door, but he wasn't sure.

* * *

"Okay, you both ready for this?" Neville asked as he, Blaise, Harry and Draco stood outside the Great Hall. Due to an incident involving a large black dog and obscene amounts of urine, they were late back and everybody else was already sat down to dinner.

"Yeah, fuck it," Harry said nonchalantly, "Come on, I'm bloody starving." Draco looked slightly more apprehensive, but Harry grabbed his hand and began dragging him into the hall with Blaise and Neville following behind them.

The doors creaked as they were pushed open and all heads in the hall turned to look at the four as they paused for a second inside. There was silence for a second, and then conversations broke out everywhere.

"Merlin, Malfoy got _hot!"_

"Too bad they're gay-"

"What does Potter think he's wearing?"

"Blood traitor scum-"

"Do you think they're up for threesomes?"

Harry smirked at that last one, waggling his eyebrows jokingly at Draco who swatted him on the arm.

"No," he said firmly, turning away and walking towards the Slytherin table even though at least half the table looked as though they wanted to kill him.

"At least think about it?" Harry called playfully at his retreating back, winking at the nearby Hufflepuffs who had been the ones to voice the query. They blushed and giggled happily, but Draco merely stuck up his middle finger without looking back. Sighing, Harry strolled over to the Gryffindor table and took his seat next to Hermione. Ron was sat at the other end with Dean and Seamus, deliberately not looking at Harry.

"Hey Hermione," he said, kissing the top of her head in greeting as he sat down, "Good holiday?" Hermione blinked, slightly taken aback at the unusual display of affection from her friend.

"Yes, it was good, thank you," she smiled, before beginning to gush about how good the books he had got her for Christmas were. Harry grinned, digging into his food. At least some things never changed.


	42. Chapter 42

A/N: Yay, new chapter. Thank you, as always, for all the wonderful review along with all the other support you all give me for this story. Please, feel free to critique, it makes me a better writer.

Enjoy!

* * *

"Harry!" Cedric called, jogging down the lawn to the lake, where the younger boy was already stood along with Fleur.

"Alright, mate?" Harry yawned. It was early morning on the day of the second task and Harry was beginning to resent this tournament more and more. Nothing less than mortal peril should drag a boy out of bed this early.

"You got my letter then?" Cedric asked, ignoring the pleasantries.

"Yeah," Harry nodded, "Cheers for that, it was fucking decent of you."

"I'm not a Hufflepuff for nothing," Cedric grinned, "So what've you got planned then?" Harry turned to him with a smirk.

"Well... let's just say that it's a lovely day." Cedric frowned, looking around at the sky. Okay, yes, there wasn't a cloud in the sky and the sun was strangely warm for this time of year but what on earth did that have to do with the task? Figuring he would get his answer soon enough, Cedric shrugged it off and turned to greet Fleur. Viktor turned up not long after, and before too long the stands had begun to fill up with their teachers and peers.

"Your Profezzer Snape seems to be in a good mood," Fleur commented in surprise. Harry turned to look at the teacher's area and, sure enough, there was Snape without his customary scowl, a small smile in its place. A shiver went down Harry's back at the sight and he looked away hurriedly.

"That's just not fucking natural," he muttered, causing Cedric to laugh out loud.

"Champions, over here if you please," a cheery voice called out and the four teens dutifully trouped across to where Ludo Bagman stood, though Harry continued to throw disturbed glances Snape's way.

"Right, brilliant. Now then, I'm sure you all know what you need to do, and that you have an hour to do it in," Bagman began, shooting a worried look at Harry who ignored it, "So if you could all allow Percy here to direct you all to your starting places, that's right." Fleur, Viktor and Krum wandered off with Percy, but a hand on Harry's arm held him back.

"Did you want something?" He asked bluntly, frowning at the ex-beater.

"Oh, just wondering if you needed any help, my boy, after all, you are the youngest of all the champions, not to mention the fact that you were the only one not to receive a clue for this task. Always had a bit of a thing for an underdog, me," Bagman chuckled, though the laugh didn't reach his eyes.

"Nah, I'm good, mate," Harry answered, stifling yet another yawn, "I've got no interest in winning anyway." With that, he stepped around Bagman and left to find Percy, missing the look of shock and fear that flew over the older man's face.

"Harry, it's very good to see you again," Percy greeted pompously whilst he finished placing Cedric at his starting point, "I had thought of talking to you at the Yule Ball, but you seemed rather... busy." He wrinkled his nose distastefully, as he remembered Harry's drunken antics.

"How come you're here anyway?" Harry asked, "I would've thought Crouch's replacement would've turned up." Percy drew himself up proudly and Harry inwardly groaned; perhaps that hadn't been the best thing to say, if it produced that sort of reaction from his least favourite Weasley.

"The new head is, of course, extremely busy sorting through the mess that Mr Crouch left in his wake, and so he entrusted the overseeing and judging of this task to me." Harry nodded, raising his eyebrows slightly but not otherwise answering.

"This me?" he asked instead, stepping onto a slightly raised square on the bank of the lake.

"Yes," Percy answered primly before promptly turning and heading towards the judge's table.

"Bloody prick," Harry muttered.

"Ladies and gentleman!" Ludo's voice soared across the stadium and the chatter stopped immediately. Harry yawned, looking across to the other champions.

Fleur looked nervous, standing there shivering in a silver swimming costume and chewing her lip. Viktor looked moody as usual, though this could have something to do with the amount of giggling and swooning he was attracting as he slouched on his square in nothing but tight swimming pants. Cedric for his part, looked merely determined in a vest and shorts, though he flashed Harry a quick grin when he saw the younger boy looking. Harry supposed that he himself could not look any more the opposite of his fellow champions. He wore, instead of swimming gear, ripped skinny jeans and a red Weasley jumper, though he was regretting that choice as sweat began to form on the back of his neck.

A gun went off and the other three quickly cast spells on themselves before jumping into the lake too quickly for Harry to tell what it was that they had done. He thought he might have caught a glimpse of shark in Viktor's direction though, but he was sure it was just his eyes playing tricks on him. Cheers went up but soon died down as the crowd realised that Harry had still not moved.

Grinning, Harry stepped off of his starting point and found a nice patch of grass. He looked up to the stands and located his boyfriend, who was sat with Blaise, Neville and the strange blonde girl who had 'fixed' his hair so long ago. Throwing a wave and a wink in their direction, he yanked his jumper off over his head, allowing it to take the T-shirt he wore underneath with it. He ignored the wolf whistles and laughs that came from the crowd and lay down on his back, using his rolled up jumper as a pillow. The warm sun beat down on him and Harry fished out a cigarette from the pocket of his jeans, blocking the crowd out of his mind and relaxing. Hey, at least he might get a tan out of this idiotic tournament.

* * *

Cedric saved his hostage first, dragging Cho Chang to the surface of the lake just as the clock chimed an hour. Fleur came out next, followed minutes later by Viktor, who still had the head of a shark with a young, pretty, Bulgarian girl under his arm. Parvati Patil pouted in the stands; she had gone to the Yule Ball with him, but it had not gone well. Fleur did not have her hostage with her, and as soon as she reached the surface she burst into tears, wailing in French.

Harry stood up and stretched, wondering who they had dumped in the bottom of the lake for him to 'save'. It couldn't have been Draco as he was in the stands along with Hermione, Ron and Neville.

"Hey, it's alright, love," Harry told Fleur, drawing her into his arms, "My person's down there still as well. They're not going to let them die, they'd be put in fucking Azkaban if they did that." Fleur sniffled but looked at Harry with wide eyes.

"You really theenk so?" She asked, but Harry was saved by answering by the arrival of a large group of merpeople carrying two sleeping forms with them. As soon as they're heads hit the open air, the two awoke suddenly, taking deep, gasping breaths as they tried to get their bearings. One was a small girl, her long blonde hair a dead giveaway that she was related to Fleur. The other was a middle-aged, ruggedly handsome man with flowing black hair and laughing grey eyes.

"Pads!" Harry yelled, grinning. His godfather had reached the bank by this point and looked around, searching for the source of the shout. Ignoring the arrival of Dumbledore, who immediately began to talk in strange screeches the to merpeople, Sirius stomped towards his godson, pausing only to brush dripping wet hair out of his face.

"Umm... Pads?" Harry asked uncertainly as his godfather approached. Without answering, Sirius stopped in front of Harry and changed into Padfoot, proving his doggie instincts by shaking himself, flinging water all over anybody who happened to be nearby. Harry, unfortunately, caught most of it, though Fleur, had she not already been soaked, would've been drenched as well.

"Oh, fuck, Pads! What the bloody hell was that for?" Padfoot grinned up at him, showing off his canines.

"Harry?" Cedric asked from behind them, "Since when was your godfather an animagus? I looked them up last year for class and there was no Sirius Black on the list." Silently Sirius transformed back, a sheepish look on his face as Harry glared.

"Umm... woops?" he tried.

"Woops? Fucking woops?" Harry said dangerously, "You let everyone know you're an illegal animagus and 'woops' is all you can say? I'm not going out and buying you bacon every morning when you're a wanted criminal again, you know." Sirius's face fell.

"But how am I meant to eat?" he whined, oblivious to the crowd gathering around them.

"Oh, I don't know you could-"

"Messer Padfoot!" Fred interrupted Harry as he and George shouldered their way through the crowd.

"You have _got _to teach us that!" George added. The crowd chuckled and even Harry deflated a little bit, though he cast a few nervous glances across at Percy and Bagman, the only ministry types in attendance.

"Entertaining as this is, boys, I believe it is time for the judges to confer before the scores are announced," Dumbledore said. He had finished talking with the merpeople, who had disappeared once more into the lake.

"You know what, Pads, I reckon there's a chance I won this one," Harry grinned, tugging his T-shirt over his head.

"Yeah, and I love Kreacher," was Sirius's reply.


	43. Chapter 43

Disclaimer: I make no money from this, so don't sue me. Although I'm fairly sure you won't anyway, it doesn't hurt to be certain.

A/N: Okayyyy, I really should stop apologising for taking so long to update. I'm rubbish. Let's move on.

I hope you all enjoy the chapter, and please do review. It's nice to get some encouragement, and also to get some critique. There are a lot of things I don't like about this story, and when they get pointed out, I know that I'm not just being silly and am more likely to fix the flaws.

* * *

_Sirius Black is not the innocent man he claimed to be!_

Harry frowned as he read the headline of the Daily Prophet the next day. The hall was abuzz with chatter and speculation, both about the task the day before and this new revelation. Of course, all of the students had seen the ex-convicts illegal animagus form for themselves, and so there was no doubt at all in their minds about its existence. Instead, their gossip fell on the subjects of whether or not Sirius was a Death Eater, and whether Harry's new relationship with Draco Malfoy proved this point.

"Honestly," Hermione scoffed, reading the article over Harry's shoulder, "Have you read that quote? He's hardly helping himself!" Harry skimmed ahead to the quote in question and promptly burst out laughing.

_When we managed to catch up with Sirius Black and questioned him about his crime he had this to say: "Oh piss off, the lot of you. I've got a fucking hangover and I need a slash. Oh, and camera guy, make sure you get my good side. Don't make me look too old or nothing, alright mate?"_

Beneath the quote was a snap of Sirius standing in the doorway of a muggle house, wearing nothing but a pair of jeans and winking at the camera. A blonde girl who looked an awful lot like Ruby could be seen in the background, but she was blurry and Harry couldn't be sure.

"It isn't funny, Harry! He could be sent back to Azkaban for this, and he's hardly giving on the image of a useful member of society!" Harry frowned at the sudden image of Sirius in a suit and tie, carrying a briefcase that popped into his head.

"Why the fuck," he asked through a mouthful of toast, "Would Pads want to be a useful member of society?"

"Oh, _Harry,_" Hermione exclaimed, "Don't you see? If he at least looked like he was integrating himself back into society they would be more likely to be lenient on him. After all, what use do they have for a rich pureblood that spends his time drinking and fighting? It's hardly any incentive to keep him out of prison, is it?"

"He's already spent thirteen years in the bloody place, Hermione, I think he's done his fucking time already, don't you?" Harry snapped, too angry suddenly to care when Hermione's face fell and she looked as though he had hit her.

"Harry... I didn't mean... of course I don't _want _him to go back to Azkaban, I'm just saying that-" Harry ignored her stammered words and got up from the table, storming from the hall.

As soon as he was alone, in a corridor on the third floor, he pulled the mirror he always carried with him out of his pocket.

"Sirius Black," he snapped at it, waiting impatiently as it fogged over before his godfather's face swam into view.

"Alright, pup?" Sirius asked, roguish grin stuck firmly on his face. Harry scowled.

"No I'm not fucking alright, mate. Why the bloody hell did you go and advertise the fact that you're a fucking illegal animagus? Now everyone thinks you're a death eater, you wanker!"

"Huh?" Sirius asked intelligently, "How the hell did they make the link between 'illegal animagus' and 'death eater'?"

"I don't know, maybe because they spent _thirteen fucking years _thinking you were one? I won't let you go back to that place again, Sirius, I fucking won't," Harry was pacing the corridor by this time, agitated, his anger dissipating and giving way to worry.

"Oh, come on, pup, I'm pretty sure I've already done my time, don't you? And if they try to throw me back there, I'll just escape again, won't I? I'm good at that," Sirius grinned up at his godson from the mirror, but it did nothing to relieve Harry's concern. "Look, stop worrying, mate. I'm fine! Besides, they can't even get into Grimmauld Place, so worst comes to worst, I'll just hide there, won't I?" Harry sighed; he should have known that this would be a pointless conversation. Sirius was, even after thirteen years of crippling depression under the control of the dementors, an eternal optimist. Harry ignored the fact that if it were anything but Sirius's safety on the line, then Harry would be right there with him, laughing it off.

"You're a fucking idiot," he told him, "And I've got to get to Defence." With that, he severed the connection on the mirrors and stomped off down the corridor, in an even worse mood than before the chat.

* * *

Draco smirked as he leant back in his seat in Defence Against the Dark Arts that morning. It was Moody's (the real Moody that is) first actual lesson teaching them, and they were watching as each member of the class presented the project they had been working on for the last few months. _Idiots, _he thought to himself as he watched another student rambling about the virtues of expelliarmius, _as though that would be any good against a Death Eater. _

"Alright then, Potter, you're up," Moody growled irritably from the back of the room. Draco sneered as his _boyfriend _stood up and swaggered to the front of the class. Harry began to talk about the ways in which muggle defence could be incorporated into a magical duel, an uncharacteristically serious expression on his face, but Draco did not listen. He simply leant back in his chair and glared.

_What was I thinking? _He asked himself, _He's a muggle loving fool._

* * *

Harry found Blaise in the library sat at a table with, surprisingly, Neville. He coughed slightly as he sat down, unobtrusively announcing his presence.

"You alright, Harry?" Neville asked, looking up from his Potions essay. Blaise put his book down and simply stared at Harry across the table, his dark eyes boring holes in the other boy's head.

"Yeah, mate. Well, no. Not really. Fuck, I don't know," Harry muttered, running a hand through his already messy hair and automatically reaching for a cigarette. It was a measure of their concern that neither boy stopped him, though they both knew that they now only had a limited amount of time before they were kicked out of the library.

"What is it?" Neville asked.

"It's Draco. And Sirius. Well, Sirius more than Draco I suppose, but at least in Sirius' case I know what's wrong." Neville glanced at Blaise and was frustrated to find a look of understanding on his face, while he was sure that his own showed only his confusion at Harry's words.

"You might need to explain a bit more, Harry," he said gently, "Why don't you start with Sirius and we'll move on to Draco?"

"Yeah, okay. You guys saw the paper, right?" Both boys nodded and Harry continued, "He's gonna get himself thrown in Azkaban again! And he doesn't even care! Fucking hell, everyone thinks he's a bloody Death Eater again. I risked both of our lives getting him declared innocent the first time, and I'm pretty sure the same tactics won't fucking work this time. Seeing as he's technically guilty and all!" Harry's mouth kept moving, but no sounds came out. Blaise put his wand back down on the table and sent Neville a glare to shut him up.

"Harry, you're being stupid. They haven't even sent out an arrest warrant or anything yet, so don't get ahead of yourself. I know you won't believe me, but if I know anything about politicians then there's a strong likelihood that they'll just brush this all under the rug. He still has the ability to make a big scene about his false imprisonment, you know, so they'll probably be very reluctant to piss him off. They can just brush off the Prophet's claims as rumours and hearsay." Harry sat, silenced and (metaphorically) stunned. It was the most he had ever heard Blaise say at once; even when he was wasted he wasn't particularly talkative. And, annoyingly, it sort of made sense. Irritably, he gestured to his mouth and the spell was taken off almost immediately.

"Fine. But if he gets arrested then I reserve the right to say I told you so," he grumbled. Blaise smirked and Neville sighed with relief.

"So what about Dr-" Neville began but was cut off by an irate screech.

"_Smoking in the library? _How _dare _you? Get out, get out GET OUT!" Harry jumped up guiltily and the other boys followed suit, grabbing their books and parchment and legging it out of the library, leaving an extremely angry librarian behind them.

"So," Neville puffed once they had deemed themselves far enough from the library to slow to a walk, "What about Draco then? I thought you two were fine?" In all honesty, Neville wasn't too surprised that the couple had hit a road bump; they had spent so long as enemies that it was unimaginable that they would be able to make the transformation to lovers (though whether they officially were or not yet, Neville did not know, and had no particular desire to) as smoothly as they had appeared to.

"I don't know," Harry said petulantly, shoving his hands in his jeans pockets and slouching along between his two friends, "He's just acting weird, you know? He spent all of Defence glaring at me, and when I tried to catch up with him after he walked off in the opposite fucking direction. Is he avoiding me? Has he said something to you?" He directed this last to Blaise, but was disappointed when the Slytherin shook his head, frowning as he did so.

"He hasn't said anything. I mean, I know he was jealous over the whole lake thing, but nothing that would make him act like this."

"Lake thing? What lake thing?" Harry asked. Blaise sighed, and gave Harry a considering look as he wondered whether or not to betray his best friend's confidence.

"He wasn't happy that Sirius was chosen as your most missed object instead of himself," he said eventually, "But I spoke to him about it and he agreed, albeit reluctantly, that you had only been on decent terms with Draco for a month or so, whereas you had considered Sirius your only family for a lot longer than that. I can't imagine him acting like this over something so small though." Harry stopped in the corridor and turned to his friends.

"Right, fuck it, that's it then! I'll just go and apologise for that if it is that and if not then he'll tell me what's wrong and it'll all be hunky dory," Harry grinned, and oblivious to the matching looks of disbelief on the other boy's faces, he marched off through the castle. Neville and Blaise stood in silence for a minute, staring down the corridor where Harry had disappeared.

"Do you ever get that feeling where you just _know _something isn't going to go right?" Blaise asked eventually.

"With Harry around? All the bloody time."

* * *

"Father," Draco drawled. Lucius Malfoy, in all his multi-coloured glory, stopped skulking around the shadows of the clearing in which his son stood and stepped into the circle of light caused by the full moon. The older man carried his wand-cane in one hand and a bundle of cloth in the other.

"Son," Lucius copied Draco's tone of voice almost exactly, but managed to slip a bit of contempt in there as well. This was almost too easy. "I assume things are going well?"

"As well as can be, father. Where am I to take him once I have him?"

"My Lord?" Lucius asked, uncovering the first layer of blankets to reveal the face of the thing in his arms.

"The graveyard, Luciusss," it rasped, "You will make him a portkey."


	44. Chapter 44

A/N: I feel like starting with an apology again would be redundant, so instead I'll just say that I'm now doing 35 hours a week at work and I'm about to start a degree which will have to be done around work. So I'm not going to have too much time spare, but I'm doing the best I can.

On a side note, and a bit of shameless self-promotion (well, not necessarily shameless, but anyway) I'd be very very grateful if any of you had the time to go to my profile, and take a look at another of my fics, called 'The Thunder In Her Blood'. I'm really proud of it so far, and I really like where it's going, but it's getting hardly any attention, and as such I don't know if it's any good or not, or what I can do to make it better or anything like that. So if anybody has some spare time and feels like popping over there and giving it a read, that'd be nice :)

Anway, enjoy the chapter, and I'm now working on the next one, so it shouldn't be too long a wait this time :)

* * *

Harry grinned as he peered around the bookcase at his prey. It had taken him the rest of the day and well into the evening to corner the boy, but finally he had found Draco by himself in the back of the library. He was sat at a table, engrossed in an enormous book which he was reading by the light of his wand. Harry whispered the words to wipe the marauder's map clean; it had done its job and now he just had to make sure that Draco didn't run away before Harry had his answers.

"Draco," he called, his voice mostly cheerful but with a hint of warning. The blonde looked up and, on seeing who it was, scowled.

"What do you want, Potter?" he drawled, "I'm rather busy here." Harry frowned, taking a seat at the table opposite his boyfriend. Or, at least, he assumed that Draco was still his boyfriend. Wasn't that the kind of thing that couples were supposed to tell each other? Whether or not they are still a couple?

"Okay, what the fuck is going on?" Harry snapped. He really could be almost brutally Gryffindor-ish sometimes. "One second you're fine, we spent all of fucking Christmas together and you were fucking _fine. _A whole bloody month of school, and you're still fine. And then, over-fucking-night, you're suddenly Malfoy again, the arrogant git you always pretended to be. So _what the fuck happened?"_

"What happened? I got some sense knocked into me, that's what happened," Draco spat across the table, standing up and slamming his book shut, "I don't know what ever possessed me to entertain this relationship with you, but clearly I went temporarily insane. You are not, and never will be fit for a Malfoy. And the next time you bring this up, I'll kill you." With that he stormed out of the library, leaving a stunned and confused Harry in the dark behind him, watching as the glow of Draco's wand was carried farther and farther away.

* * *

When Ron found Harry in the common room the next morning, he was slumped over the couch by the fire, an almost empty bottle of firewhiskey in his hand and a snoring Dobby by his feet. Harry himself was wide awake, staring into the fire with an uncharacteristically serious expression on his face.

"Uh, Harry?" Ron asked, forgetting for the moment that he wasn't supposed to be talking to his best friend. Harry looked up, his eyes clearly unfocused, and Ron wondered silently how much of that bottle Harry had drunk. Probably most of it, as Dobby only tended to need a few shots to be completely out of it.

"If you want to have a go at me for dating a Slytherin, you may as well save your breath. Because I'm not anymore. I'm sure that makes you very fucking happy," Harry's voice was almost entirely monotone, all of his usual excitement for life drained out of it. Ron's forehead creased in concern, but Harry ignored it, turning back to the fire.

"Shit... that's um... shit," Ron said, ever eloquent. Hermione, coming down the stairs from the girl's dormitories paused, just out of sight, wondering what her two best friends were talking about.

"Pretty much," Harry answered.

"I can get the twins to prank him if you want?" Ron asked, tentatively and Harry smiled, though it was a far cry from his usual ear-to-ear grin.

"Nah, it's alright, mate. I mean what the fuck was I thinking anyway? I mean, sure me and him have all this sexual tension and stuff, but an actual relationship? Sirius was right; relationships are for pussies."

"Isn't he going out with some muggle bird though?"

"Huh. Never thought of that." Harry scratched his head thoughtfully. It was completely different though, he thought, because Ruby was lovely, and Draco was not.

"Come on, let's go get some breakfast. We have potions first thing," Ron suggested, holding out a hand to pull Harry to his feet. Harry paused slightly, but took the offered hand and stood, allowing the empty bottle to fall out of his hand to the floor.

"What should we do about Dobby?" Ron asked.

"Oh, he'll be fine," Harry said, "Just needs to sleep it off and he'll get back to Grimmauld Place probably." Ron nodded and they left the common room together, joking and laughing as though the break in their friendship had never happened. Hermione, still stood on the stairs, had tears in her eyes.

"Boys," she muttered angrily, dashing them away with the back of her hand.

* * *

The next few weeks passed in much the same way. Harry would spend his days attending classes and chatting with Hermione, Ron and Neville, occasionally taking time to see his other friends. He would then spend his evenings getting riotously drunk in the common room, the owlery, the astronomy tower, or even, one memorable time, in the library. His friends were all worried about him, but none knew what to say; nothing could be said to make him feel better, especially as all any of them actually knew about the situation was that Draco had split up with Harry.

And the one boy who could possibly have known the right thing to say was currently busy trying to persuade his best friend to talk to him again. Poor Blaise, who usually knew everything that was going on around him, uncannily observant as he was, had no idea what had happened to cause such a severe change in Draco. It was almost as if somebody had come along and scooped the parts of his brain that made him Draco out of his head, leaving only those parts that made him a Malfoy. Worried though Harry's friends were about him, that was just a tip on the iceberg of the concern that Blaise felt about Draco's current state. And so it was that he found himself taking a seat opposite Hermione Granger when she was working in the library. It was six in the morning, but that didn't seem to deter the Gryffindor girl, as she was surrounded by books and parchment, her bush of hair tied back haphazardly.

"Blaise," she greeted distractedly, "What are you doing here this early?"

"I needed to talk to you," he answered, glancing around at her work, "What is all this?"

"Oh, just working on a project. It's called SPEW." She smiled wryly, as though expecting him to laugh at her.

"The house-elf protection thing?" he asked instead, keeping his face blank. All pure-bloods had a natural reaction to laugh any time they heard anything about the society. Denying a house-elf work was like denying Hermione books, or denying Harry alcohol. It was kind on some level, he supposed, but on the whole it was just cruel.

"Yes, did you want to become a member?" Hermione's eyes lit up and she began rifling through her work, "I'm sure I have the tin here somewhere..."

"Maybe later, Hermione," Blaise cut in smoothly, "I needed to talk to you about Draco."

"Oh." A frown creased her forehead and she immediately stopped looking through her papers, choosing instead to look intently across the table at Blaise, her chin resting in her hands. "What about him?"

"He's not himself," Blaise began, hurrying to continue when Hermione showed signs of disagreement, "No, I know what you're thinking: 'he's always been like this, he just had a momentary lapse with Harry.' But that isn't true! The Draco that he was when he was with Harry was the proper Draco, the one I've known all my life. He's always been an arse in public, but he's himself with me. And now he's not, now he's that arrogant pureblood everyone thought he was all the time. He's basically my brother, Hermione, I know when something's wrong with him. And something is most definitely wrong with him now. I can't ignore it any longer. I need your help." He watched the cogs turn in Hermione's mind, knew that she was considering his words from every angle and knew that she would agree to help him. It was just the sort of girl Hermione was; she was curious, kind, and always willing to help others with very few questions asked. It was why he'd come to her, and not to Neville or one of Harry's other friends.

"Alright," she agreed and Blaise mentally breathed a sigh of relief, "What do you need me to do?"

"Right, I thought we'd start by researching spells and potions that can be used to control somebody."

"Well, there's the imperius of course, but surely whoever was casting it on him would have to see him regularly to renew the spell, otherwise there's a chance he could fight against it. We need to figure out exactly how long he's been acting like this, and then go from there, I think. That way we can rule out anything that only works for a short amount of time. Just let me get this lot cleared away and we can make a start." Blaise smirked to himself slightly, pleased with the way the conversation had gone. If anybody could figure out what was wrong with Draco, it was Hermione.


	45. Chapter 45

A/N: Kind of a short one, but necessary nonetheless. Thanks as always to those who read/reviewed/favourited/whatever. We're nearing the end now, about 4 or 5 chapters left, and to be honest, there have been several times in this story when I considered quitting. But your reviews always kept me going :) So thank you!

Hope you enjoy!

* * *

"Mr Potter," Professor McGonagall's stern voice said from behind the boy in question as he was eating dinner a few days later, "Your presence is required after dinner down on the quidditch pitch." Harry frowned, looking around from his food to look at his teacher.

"What for?" he asked bluntly, ignoring Hermione's elbow to his ribs and her whispered "Don't be rude!" Professor McGonagall arched an eyebrow, but was used, by now, to her pupil's lack of respect for her. Although if she hadn't noticed his distance from Draco Malfoy these last few weeks, then she would have most certainly have assigned a detention. As it was, however, she was inclined to cut him a bit of slack. Only a bit, though.

"Dinner will be finished in ten minutes, Mr Potter, I am almost certain that you can wait until then to find out." And with that, she swept away to the head table.

"Harry, you really should show her more respect, she _is _a professor, you know," Hermione admonished between mouthfuls of food. So busy was she with eating, she failed to noticed the eyes watching her until she glanced up to take a gulp of pumpkin juice.

"What?" she asked. Neville was speechless, but Harry managed to reign in his bemusement long enough to ask the question that they both were thinking.

"Umm... in a hurry?" he said, eyes sparkling with amusement because of her uncanny resemblance to Ron as she ate.

"Yes, I am actually," she answered, finishing her meal and taking another gulp of juice. "I need to get to the library. Research, you know," she said vaguely, grabbing her bag and leaving the table.

"What's with her?" Neville asked, finding his voice finally.

"Beats me," Harry shrugged, taking a last bite of his dinner and grabbing his own bag from under the table, "I'd better get going though, I want time for a smoke before I have to be down at the quidditch pitch."

"Okay, see you later," Neville answered, turning back to his meal. Cedric caught up with Harry just outside the castle doors.

"You heading down to the quidditch pitch?" the older boy panted. Harry nodded, pulling his cigarettes and lighter out of his jeans pocket.

"Yeah, I thought I'd get there early and have time for a fag first. You got invited too, huh? Must be a tournament thing then." Cedric nodded absently, a tiny frown on his face as he looked down at the Boy-Who-Lived.

"Yeah, I guess. Look, I know it's none of my business, but if you ever want to talk about what happened with Draco, I'm here, ok? We're all worried about you, but you won't talk to anyone." Harry sighed, blowing smoke out through his nose before running a hand through his hair.

"I know. It's just that the whole situation is so fucked, you know? I mean, what was with me and Malfoy anyway? We hate each other, always have."

"Oh come off it, Harry," Cedric exclaimed, exasperated, "You don't hate each other, you never have, not really. Even I could see it, and I didn't even know either of you. You both just have this weird thing where you love fighting with each other. It's like Ron and Hermione; they fight because the only other option is to snog constantly, and they're too scared of their feelings to do that. That's you and Draco, mate. I mean, yeah, you do get on each other's nerves a lot, so I guess that's why some of the fighting happens. And his father is a dick, so that accounts for some of it, too. But the rest? UST, mate. UST." Harry stared at Cedric, almost tripping over a stray tree root, he was so stunned by the Hufflepuff's words of wisdom.

"Oh, fuck off," he muttered as Cedric laughed at him.

"You know I'm right. Now you just need to figure out what's gotten Malfoy's knickers in a bunch. My money's on his dad."

"Fuck. Lucy, of course! Why the bloody fuck didn't I think of that?" Harry burst out, his cigarette hanging limply between his lips as he considered the possibilities.

"And _that, _mate, is why I'm a proper champion and you're not," Cedric joked, grinning charmingly. "On a lighter note, have you seen Fred and George? Rumour has it that they've been trying to become animagus, but all anyone really knows is that they're both stuck in the hospital wing until Madam Pomfrey can get rid of the tails."

* * *

"Harry, I don't mean to sound unsympathetic, but shouldn't you be focusing on the task? I mean, I know you don't want to win, but surely even you can see that being shoved into a maze full of dangerous creatures and spells is worth preparing for," Hermione spoke cautiously, flinching slightly when Harry abruptly stopped his pacing and whirled around to face her.

"Maze? Oh, fuck the maze, Hermione!" He snapped, "I just can't figure this out. Yeah, he's shit scared of his dad. Who wouldn't be? But he was _fine _over Christmas! So what the fuck happened?" Hermione shrank slightly in her seat as Harry ranted; she and Blaise had decided to keep their research and suspicions to themselves. If they were wrong about it all, then they didn't want to give Harry false hope; it had hit him hard enough the first time, they didn't want to see how much whiskey he could get through if his hopes were dashed again.

"How about some chess, Harry?" Ron asked hesitantly. Harry frowned and shook his head.

"Nah. I'm gonna go for a walk," he muttered, storming out of the common room. The three friends watched him leave, all deciding not to mention the fact that it was both after curfew and tipping it down with rain outside.

* * *

"I'm siiiiinging in the rain!" Harry belted out, staggering around the grounds of Hogwarts, soaked to the bone and drunk as a skunk, "Oh siiiinging in the rain! What a gloooorious feeeeeeeeling, I'm h-happy again!" Chuckling to himself, Harry continued on his path, picking himself up from the ground several times when he failed to see the obstacles in front of him in his drunken haze.

After wandering aimlessly for about ten minutes, he found himself in front of Hagrid's hut, and his mind cast itself back to first year. They were simpler times; finding out that he was a wizard, and a world-famous one at that and then being propelled into a world he knew nothing about had nothing on relationship troubles.

"Ahh, first year," he said nostalgically, addressing the pumpkin in Hagrid's garden, "Snape being a git and Fluffy and learning to... FLY! That's it! Accio Firebolt!" Flying, he thought reasonably, was sure to cheer him up. There was nothing as relaxing as a nice, long flight on a sunny day. Or a rainy night, he supposed. Harry took a quick swig from his almost-empty hipflask as he waited. Seeing a flash out of the corner of his eye, he reached out a hand and grabbed the broom as it sped towards him; even drunk out of his mind, he was still a Seeker.

Clumsily, he swung one leg over the broom and shot into the air. Well, a few feet into the air. Grinning, he flew around Hagrid's hut and towards the outskirts of the forest.

"I'm flyyyying in the rain," he sung happily, not noticing the tree in front of him until it was too late. He crashed straight into it, falling to the ground and knocking his head against a rock.

"Well, well. Fancy seeing you here, Potter," a strangely familiar voice drawled from a few feet away. Harry turned his head, though it took a lot of effort to do so, and caught a glimpse of Draco Malfoy through the rain, wand outstretched and mouth open ready to cast.

And then Harry passed out.


	46. Chapter 46

A/N: Thanks for the reviews and all last chapter. I know that I am rubbish and haven't answered any of them but I have been busy. Busy in a 'my boss has decided to get a divorce and so I have had to cover like a bajillion shifts for him' sort of a way. And a 'I'm trying to do a degree' kind of a way as well, I guess. But nevertheless, I appreciate every one of them very very much :)

Three chapters left, folks. Enjoy!

* * *

When Ron woke up the next morning, Harry wasn't in his bed. Of course, this year, that was the norm and so Ron didn't give it a second thought. More often than not, Harry had disappeared to one of the other common rooms or to Hagrid's or somewhere and drunk so much that he hadn't made it back to his dorm room. When he didn't make it to breakfast, however, Ron began to grow a bit concerned. Harry _always _made it to breakfast, even if he hadn't been to bed yet. Breakfast was important like that.

He tried talking it over with Hermione, to see if she knew where Harry had got to, but she ignored him, nose stuck, as usual in a big, old dusty book.

"Seriously, Hermione, what if he's passed out in the... in the forest or somewhere? What if he needs help?" He asked, trying to appeal to her mother-hen side. And for a second, her eyes lit up and he thought she had finally heard what she was saying.

"I have to go see Blaise!" she exclaimed, grabbing a slice of toast and her bag and jumping up out of her seat, "I mean- it all fits, doesn't it? Makes perfect sense, and _of course _Malfoy would know about it-" And then she dashed out of the hall, grabbing Blaise on the way and dragging him with her.

Ron shook his head in despair. Great, he thought, one of his best mates was missing and the other was mental. Sighing, he dug his fork into his breakfast and carried on eating. It looked like it was going to be one of those days, and he didn't want to have to deal with it on an empty stomach, after all.

By the time Harry didn't turn up to his second period Potions lesson, Ron was beginning to get really worried. Especially as Hermione was nowhere to be found either, not since she'd run out of breakfast. And whilst it was feasible that Harry would skip classes, it was unheard of Hermione. He botched his potion badly, but didn't care, and practically ran out of the room as soon as the lesson finished.

His first stop was hospital wing, but there was nobody there apart from a few Hufflepuff first years who had somehow managed to grow moose antlers. Next stop was the common room, and then the dorm. Harry was nowhere to be found though. Then he had a brainwave.

"Accio, Marauder's map!" he called, and a dirty old piece of parchment came flying out from under Harry's bed. "I solemnly swear that I am up to no good," he whispered, scanning the black footsteps for a good half an hour before he came to his conclusion.

Harry wasn't at Hogwarts. They had let him run off last night, drunk, by himself, and now he was gone. Without another thought, Ron sprinted down the stairs, grabbed Neville from the common room and ran straight to Dumbledore's office. Luckily, Professor McGonagall was leaving as they got there, and the two boys were able to squeeze past her and race up the stairs before she could protest.

"Professor Dumbledore," they both gasped out as they burst through his office door, "Harry isn't in Hogwarts." Dumbledore looked at them over steepled fingers, no trace of his usual twinkle in his eyes.

"And how, my dear boys, have you come to this conclusion?" Ron hesitated for a second before stepping forward and putting the map on the headmaster's desk.

"He wasn't in his bed this morning sir, but that isn't too unusual so I didn't worry that much. But then he didn't turn up for breakfast, or for his morning's lessons, so I thought I'd look for him. I couldn't find him, so I nicked his map, but he's nowhere on it. He went off last night, upset and drunk, and we really shouldn't have let him go, not by himself in that state and you know how Harry is- he's reckless and he _never _thinks anything through and-"

"I see," Dumbledore interrupted, "Do either of you have any idea what had upset him? Or where he would have gone?" Ron and Neville exchanged a glance before deciding to betray their friend's confidence. It was for his own good, after all.

"Draco's been acting weirdly, sir," Neville said, "He's been acting like he always used to, like his dad. And he split up with Harry. It all came on all of a sudden, you see. Draco was fine all over Christmas, and for the start of term. We first noticed it after the second task."

"I see," Dumbledore repeated, frowning darkly, "I would suggest we check his home for Harry first, and if he isn't there then we can begin the search." With that, the headmaster rose from his chair and crossed the room to the fireplace, where he threw a handful of floo powder into the flames. "12, Grimmauld Place" he called before getting down on his hands and knees and sticking his head into the fire.

"Do you reckon he's there?" Ron whispered to Neville as they waited. Neville shrugged.

"Who knows with Harry? He could be perfectly fine or he could be unconscious in a ditch somewhere." Ron paled but was saved from answering when the headmaster straightened up.

"He is not there. Sirius and Remus will be here in a moment to help with the search," he said gravely, reclaiming his seat behind his desk. "Now, can I offer you boys a lemon drop?"

* * *

"I can't believe this," Hermione groaned, head in her hands as she perched on an out of the way windowsill on the fifth floor. Blaise was sat slumped against the wall on the opposite side of the corridor, the enormous volume Hermione had been reading at breakfast abandoned beside him.

"It must be wrong," he muttered.

"It isn't," Hermione answered shortly, her practical mind beginning to seep through, banishing the emotional response for now, "Lucius has obviously found a way to cast this on Draco, it explains his behaviour perfectly. And there is no way to counter the spell." Blaise groaned at this, but Hermione ignored him and carried on, her eyes alight with realisation. "Except the one way to counter almost any spell. If the caster dies, the spell dies."

Blaise stared at her, shocked at the determination in her eyes. And people said Slytherins were the evil ones, he thought.

"You want to kill Lucius Malfoy?" he asked. Hermione rolled her eyes, jumping to her feet and picking up the book.

"Of course not," she scoffed, "I'm just a student, don't be ridiculous. I'm going to get a teacher to do it."

* * *

Dumbledore was beginning to panic. A check of the wards had confirmed that Harry wasn't anywhere in the Hogwarts grounds and hadn't been all night. They also confirmed that Draco Malfoy was nowhere to be found either. And then Professor Snape had arrived in his office whilst they were waiting for Sirius and Remus to arrive, followed shortly by Miss Granger and Mr Zabini.

"Shit, full house," a voice quipped, signalling the arrival of Harry's godfather. Remus fell through the fire a minute later and within no time the unlikely group were sat in some hastily conjured chairs around the headmaster's desk.

"It seems much has been going on," Dumbledore began, "So let us begin at the start. Harry Potter went missing some time last night, along with Draco Malfoy. Mr Weasley and Mr Longbottom here tell me that young Mr Malfoy has been acting out of character lately, is this true?" Blaise nodded stiffly, as the one who knew him best.

"He has, sir. And we," he indicated himself and Hermione, "Think we know why."

"Blaise came to me not that long ago, Professor, to ask for my help in researching ways that Draco could be being controlled. Blaise felt it was necessary, and I had no reason to argue with his assumption, being that I had observed the difference in behaviour myself." Even in so solemn a situation, Ron rolled his eyes at Hermione's slick transition into lecture mode.

"I found this spell this morning, sir," she continued, passing the book across the desk to the headmaster, "It's an old pureblood ritual which was often used instead of disowning disobedient children. The child had to do something directly disrespectful of the head of house for the spell to work, which Draco did with Harry over the holidays. The spell takes away the disobedient parts of the child and replaces them with the views of the father, or the head of house. It's like brainwashing."

"Fuck," Sirius muttered, reaching into a pocket of his jacket for a cigarette to calm himself down.

"Fuck indeed," Snape drawled, his eyes on Dumbledore. "Headmaster, it is getting worse. It is almost as dark as it was when _he _was in power now. I fear for the worst." Sirius scowled at the reminder of Snape's death eater status but nobody made any comment, even the teenagers who had no idea what Snape was talking about.

"Is there any way to counter the spell on Draco?" Remus asked.

"Death," Blaise answered, "Lucius Malfoy's, not Draco's."

"I see," Dumbledore said, his expression dark, "Do we have any way of locating Harry?" There was silence for a moment before Sirius spoke suddenly.

"Oh!" he exclaimed, "Fuck, of course, the tracking spell!"

"Tracking spell?" Ron asked, hope swelling in his chest.

"Yeah, I put it on him during the summer. Well, not on him, on one of his earrings- I figured he wouldn't be going anywhere without that. Just a sec," Sirius pulled his wand from behind his ear and started muttering to it.

"Am I the only one wondering why on earth you felt the need to put a tracking spell on Harry?" Remus asked.

"Huh? Oh, well, you never really know where he's gonna end up after a night on the piss and searching London gets pretty fucking tedious after the tenth time," he explained whilst conjuring a map. Dumbledore tried very hard to ignore the example of the bad parenting Arthur Weasley had once accused Sirius of and concentrate on the fact that they now had a chance of saving Harry. Assuming Harry needed saving, that is.

"Okay. Remus, could you go through the floo and inform Molly and Arthur of the situation. It may be a good idea to get them to send Bill along as well. Mr Longbottom and Mr Zabini, could you go and find Professors Moody and McGonagall, and send them up here at once. Mr Weasley and Miss Granger, if you could collect Mr Diggory, Miss Delacour and Mr Krum and do the same. Afterwards, you can all return to your common rooms, or each other's common rooms if you must, and stay there." Ron and Hermione began to protest, but Dumbledore cut them off with a glare. They shut their mouths and hurried out of the room.

"I've got him," Sirius announced, "Riddle House in Little Hangleton."

"All of you get ready. We will leave as soon as we've assembled."


	47. Chapter 47

Disclaimer: This is based on Harry Potter, and some scenes may be similiar but I am not JK and do not own anything. Except this lollipop. I own that.

A/N: Thank you as always to all who have reviewed/supported this story in any way. I know I suck at answering reviews, but I swear I read every single one of them and usually then walk around with an enormous grin on my face. So thank you :)

I'm trying to get this finished before NaNoWriMo starts, so with any luck it should be finished by next week. Should being the operative word there :) there's literally only another chapter and then an epilogue-type chapter after this to be written, so it should be done fairly quickly.

Also, this was written in less than an hour, so it's very likely that there are all sorts of grammar/spelling/whatever mistakes littering it. Feel free to point them out to me, and I'll get them fixed. I'm just too lazy (and too busy) to proofread, I'm afraid. Now, I've got to go finish my assignments for uni, so I'll stop rambling.

Without further ado, enjoy the chapter.

* * *

Harry groaned as he came round, scrunching his eyes up against the light and trying with all his might to ignore the pounding in his skull and figure out where he was. The last thing he remembered was falling off of his broomstick near the forest. Was he still there? He groped around the floor with one hand, finding it hard and wooden- floorboards, maybe? So the forest was out. As was Gryffindor tower- that was carpeted, along with the dungeons- stone floors. Where the bloody hell was he? Any normal person would be beginning to panic around about this time, but Harry was somewhat used to waking up in unknown places these days. Granted, he could usually force his hangover-addled brain to figure out where he was in a matter of minutes, but still. It wasn't a catastrophe quite yet.

"Blood of the enemy... forcibly taken," a snivelling voice said, and Harry snapped his eyes open. Okay_. __Now_ it was a catastrophe. He was in a run down living room; dust and dirt covered the floor and walls, but that was the least of Harry's worries despite the fact that his face was pressed into the filth. A large, smoking cauldron stood in the centre of the room above a small fire and Wormtail was advancing on Harry with a knife in his hand.

"You!" Harry spat and Wormtail quivered slightly, flicking his gaze to Lucius and Draco Malfoy who both stood calmly at the edge of the room. Harry followed the rat's gaze, catching sight of Draco at the same time that his last memory from the night before slotted into place. Draco. Draco had brought him here? Harry's lips unconsciously formed his ex-boyfriend's name, but the eyes that stared back at him were far colder than he had ever seen them before. Even when they had been enemies, there was a sort of amusement in the Slytherin's expression. Now there was nothing- nothing but contempt, and Harry was almost glad when Wormtail sliced his arm with the knife- anything to take his attention away from the hurt Draco had caused him.

"Fuck," he hissed, trying to stand up, intent on hurting Wormtail as much as possible. He only succeeded in flailing around on the floor a bit though, realising too late that his legs were tied together. Harry put it down to the rat's incompetence that he hadn't bothered with Harry's arms. Or a stunning spell. He watched furiously as Wormtail backed away from him, carefully holding the knife so as not to spill the drops of blood hanging onto its tip. He dropped them into the cauldron and it began to bubble, smoke billowing from the surface. Wormtail began to speak again, but Harry was no longer listening.

Instead, he was listing every swear word he could think of in his mind. How did he get into these situations? Why had Draco brought him here? What had happened to _his_Draco? Did Wormtail find Voldemort? How did Lucius get rid of the paint splatters? What was with the cauldron? Would anyone find him in time? Was he going to die? Did anyone have a hangover potion? He snickered slightly at the last question that flew through his mind; he could just imagine their expressions if he asked them for one. He sobered quickly though, when a figure began to rise from the cauldron. Seconds, later, he was screaming and clutching his scar as red-hot pain shot through him. The creature that climbed out of the cauldron was tall and almost skeletally thin, with greyish skin and two slits where his nose should have been. His eyes caught the sight of Harry, tied up and helpless on the floor, and they flashed red as a sadistic smirk quirked the creature's lips.

"_Tom,__" _Harry hissed through gritted teeth, but he was ignored, Voldemort turning his attention away from the boy at his feet to the man cowering beside him, his gaze flickering across the Malfoy's in the room before ignoring them as well.

"Robe me, Wormtail," the newly-arisen Dark Lord commanded, and Harry had to hold back a snort, even through the pain in his head, when Wormtail immediately shuffled to do his master's bidding. He was pathetic. More to test out the use of his vocal chords with this amount of pain than anything else, Harry decided to vocalise that thought.

"You're fucking pathetic, Wormtail. You betrayed your best friends. They loved you, would have died for you. But you chose to be a snivelling slave to a half-blood instead," Harry snapped, his voice quiet but commanding as he continued to struggle against his bonds. Wormtail flinched as if he had been struck, but Voldemort chuckled; a strange, high-pitched noise that didn't sound natural.

"Harry Potter," he smiled, "The Boy-Who-Lived. You won't be living much longer, I'm afraid. Wormtail, untie him. He is no threat. Lucius, my wand?" Harry bit his lip to stop himself from crying out in pain as Wormtail sent slashing charms at the ropes around him, creating gouges in his legs. Harry stood as soon as he was able, surreptitiously checking his holster for his wand. It wasn't there. He needn't have bothered being discrete though, as no-one's attention was on him. The other three occupants of the room were all fixated on the dark lord in their midst, who had rolled up Wormtail's sleeve and had his wand pressed hard into the skull and snake tattoo etched in the rat's forearm.

"Let's see who will return," Voldemort smiled at Harry, sending a shiver down the teenager's spine. For all of Harry's bravado when fighting muggles, and even your average (or slightly above average) wizard, he felt his confidence slipping when faced with his parent's murderer. A spark of rage jolted through him as he remembered his mother's screams, how she had begged for Harry's life and how Voldemort had carelessly slain her anyway. His mother and father had died for him, and he would not let this creature cause that sacrifice to be in vain. The throbbing in his head from his hangover began to subside, replaced by calm determination.

"I'm going to kill you, mudblood," he spat, an evil smirk curling his lips as a look of shock and rage appeared on the dark lord's face.

"You dare!" Voldemort screamed, storming across the room, "You dare call _me, _who's ancestry can be traced back to Salazar Slytherin himself, a mudblood?" He opened his mouth to continue his rant, but was cut off by the arrival of an owl, who dropped a letter unceremoniously on Voldemort's head. And then another flew through the open window, and another and another, until an entire flock of owls had been and gone, each dropping their letters on the dark lord before swooping back out of the window.

"What is the meaning of this?" Voldemort screamed, startling a few death eater's who had just apparated into the room. Their arrival was quickly followed by others and soon the room was beginning to get a little crowded, with everybody surrounding Harry and Voldemort in the centre of the room with a pile of letters in between them.

Harry peered at the pile; quickly having his suspicions confirmed when he saw his own handwriting. He bit his tongue to stop the snort of laughter that bubbled up; he had wondered what had happened to those letters. He had been rather worried when none of the owls had reappeared after a few weeks, concerned that they had all met a rather nasty end because of his joke. He was gladder than he could say to learn that that was not true. Of course, a lot of his good mood at the sight could be attributed to the fact that he would now be able to see Tom's face when he opened them.

"So, Tommy boy," he said, scanning the room for any sign of his wand. He needed to get it back as soon as possible if there was to be any chance of getting out of here alive. "Aren't you going to open your mail?" Voldemort looked for a second like he was considering avada-ing Harry out of annoyance but he seemed to think better of it as curiosity overtook him and he reached into the pile and took a letter out at random.

"Wormtail," he said, thrusting the letter towards the cowering man, "Read it. As young Harry is son interested in it's contents, it's only fair that we allow him to listen before he dies." Harry wasn't quick enough to bite back his snort of laughter this time; he couldn't believe that the dark lord could be that stupid.

"Y-yes, master," Wormtail stuttered, throwing an uncertain glance around at the assembled (and very confused) death eaters.

"_Dear __Tommy,__" _he read.

"_How __are __things? __Still __all __ghosty? __That __must _really _suck __balls. __I __mean, __I __know __that _I _would __just _hate _it __if __I __didn__'__t __have __a __body. __I __mean, __it __must __get __really __frustrating __sometimes, __if __you __know __what __I __mean._

_How's Wormy? Tell him that Sirius and I said hi. I'm sure he'd like that. _

_Lots of love from Harry James Potter, Boy-Who-Lived and all-round good guy. _

_P.S. I heard the other day that Voldemort means 'flight from death' in French. Bet you feel stupid now, eh?"_

The room was silent as Wormtail finished. More than one death eater was wishing that they had turned up late. Harry frowned, looking down at the pile of letters.

"That wasn't even one of the funny ones though! There was this one where I listed all the other famous people called Tom. And another one that was just a picture of Crabbe and Goyle having sex. Junior, not senior, don't worry," he added with a nod in the direction of two boulders in masks who had shifted at the mention of their names.

"_Crucio!__" _Voldemort screamed suddenly, having snapped out of his shocked daze. Harry grunted, falling to one knee but refusing to give the man the satisfaction of screaming again. And then, as suddenly as it had come, the pain was gone and Harry rose to his feet again, staring at Voldemort with apprehension and hatred.

"Draco," Tom hissed, never once taking his eyes off of Harry, "Give the boy back his wand. We'll see if he has any skill behind his brave front." The death eaters around them chuckled and Voldemort smirked, "Somehow, I doubt it." Draco approached Harry with an expression of disgust on his face, holding his ex-boyfriend's wand by the tips of his fingers as though it was diseased. Harry snatched it from him without even looking, refusing to acknowledge this Draco.

"Come on then, Tommy," Harry taunted, twirling his wand in his fingers, "Let's get the fuck on with it."


	48. Chapter 48

A/N: Well then. This is it for a while. I'm not entirely happy with it (but then I'm not entirely happy with a lot of this story) but there it is. The last proper chapter of Chaos. There will be an epilogue, after which I will be offering any of you lot the sequel rights, as I'm sure that after the epilogue at least one person will want one :P And I'm too lazy (and too busy) to write it. The epilogue will have to wait until after nanowrimo though, which starts today. So I'm behind in my 50,000 words already, and it's all this chapter's fault :P

Anyway, I really hope you enjoy it!

* * *

Ron, Hermione and Neville had a plan. They would not sit around Hogwarts whilst their best friend fought Merlin-knows-what- they were Gryffindors, goddammit! They had spent exactly two minutes in their common room before sneaking out, dragging Blaise along with them, and heading for the headmaster's had only made it to the gargoyle however, where they had hit a snag in their plan.

"You don't know the password, do you?" Blaise asked. He had not had any part in the making of the plan, nor did he really agree with the necessity of it. Sure, he wanted to go along- his best friend was there as well as Harry, and Blaise wanted nothing more than for them both to be safe. He just wasn't sure how four fourth year's help would make any difference. None of them had Harry's skill in defence, nor did they have a cool godfather who taught them hexes over the holidays. If anybody needed a potion made, or a plant grown, or a book read, or to play some chess then sure, they were the ones to turn to. But fighting Death Eaters? Blaise honestly didn't see what help they could offer. But he had tagged along anyway, in the hopes that he could discourage them. So far, he had had no luck.

"Harry said that it's normally sweets," Hermione huffed, "We'll just have to try and guess it."

"Sugar quills?"

"Acid pops?"

"Sherbet lemo-"

"I wouldn't do that if I were you," a dreamy voice from behind the group spoke up, interrupting their guessing. They all turned to find Luna Lovegood blinking up at them.

"Why not?" Ron snapped. He was beginning to get anxious, scared that the adults would leave before they could get there.

"You can't fight the death eaters, silly. You don't know enough, and even if you did, it isn't all about book-learning. You'd need experience in the field to be truly helpful. That's the problem with you Gryffindors, you never seem to realise your own limitations. I've long suspected that there's an infestation of nargles in your dormitories." The four of them stared at her for a minute, unable to tell if she was making sense or talking rubbish. Luna stared back for a little while before turning on her heel and skipping away down the corridor.

"She's right, you know," Sirius said, stepping out from behind the gargoyle which had slid open when everyone's attention had been otherwise occupied with Luna.

"We can fight!" Ron exclaimed, Neville and Hermione nodding in agreement next t him. Blaise wisely kept silent.

"I'm not saying that you _can__'__t,_although she was right that you've got no fucking chance against death eaters. If it's even death eaters that've taken Harry, could have just been Lucy by himself for all we know. But anyway, I'm saying that you _shouldn__'__t._Fuck, me and James and Lily and Remus didn't get dragged into the war until we were at least of age. That's the way it bloody should be. Unfortunately, Harry doesn't have that choice, but you lot do. Be kids for a bit longer, for fuck's sake. Besides, Harry'd never forgive himself if any of you lot got killed trying to save him. So just fucking leave it, okay?"

Ron had turned bright red in the face and Hermione, sensing an imminent explosion, decided to intervene.

"But we can still help," she argued, "We don't have to fight. We can rescue Harry while you distract whoever took him!" Before Sirius could reply, there was a pop and Dobby appeared next to him.

"We is waiting for you, Master Padfoot," he squeaked urgently.

"Wait, Dobby gets to go and we don't?" Neville asked.

"Dobby's 58 years old and can beat Lucius Malfoy in a fight," Sirius snapped bluntly, "You lot are 14 and couldn't take fucking Lockhart in a duel!" The four students recoiled slightly at the harsh words, but watched silently as Sirius and Dobby disappeared back up the winding staircase.

* * *

Sirius and the rescue crew found chaos when they apparated into Riddle Mansion. They were squashed into an already crowded room, full of figures in black cloaks with white masks on. Everybody looked around warily, waiting for somebody to make the first move. Then there was a scream from the back of the group; it sounded like Fleur but Sirius couldn't be sure. All he knew was that when he turned to look, he caught a glimpse of Voldemort standing over a broken body with a mop of black hair.

"Harry!" he screamed, trying to fight his way through the crowd to his godson. It was at that minute however that the first of the spells began flying and he was forced to duck and shield when a green spell shot in his direction. A cloaked figure was descending on him quickly and Sirius, unwilling to stay in such a defensive position, tore down his own shield and threw himself at the figure, pummeling his fist into the man's face. The white mask crumpled under a few blows, shards of it sticking into the man's face but most of it falling away to reveal Lucius Malfoy.

"You!" Sirius snarled, remembering what Hermione and Blaise had told them. He had to die if they wanted Draco back. And, Merlin help him, Sirius found that he _really_wanted Draco back. With a battle cry that was lost in the din of the fight, Sirius thrust his wand forward, wordlessly transfiguring it into metal. Lucius, though only half conscious, managed to dodge his head sideways, avoiding the fatal blow. A banishing charm later, and Sirius was forced off of Lucius. The two men circled each other, ignoring the rest of the battle, before throwing themselves forwards, each determined to fight to the death.

* * *

Cedric had no idea what was happening. He understood why he and the other champions had been asked along; they were clearly the most skilled of their schools and the adults had needed a few extra hands in case the worst was to happen. Well, Cedric could say with certainty, the worst was happening, but he wasn't sure what help he was being. It was one thing to be good in defence class, it was a whole other story actually being in battle.

He hadn't expected it to be so confusing. He had thought that the opponent would be easy to see but they weren't. There were spells flying everywhere, figures running through the crowd, tripping over the ones lying on the ground. Most of the death eaters had lost their white masks, so it took a second to recognise the person you were shooting a spell at as friend or foe. Early on, Cedric had thought that the man in front of him was Viktor, only to find out that it was a death eater. The second of hesitation had cost him a broken arm, though it could have been much more had Fleur not intervened.

"'Elp me with ze wounded!" she yelled in his ear as she pulled him up and Cedric nodded dumbly. And that was what he had been doing ever since- dragging the wounded to the edges of the room, away from the main battle, and trying to help them as best he could. He put shields up around them, though one good spell was enough to crumble them.

He wasn't cut out for battle, but this was something he seemed to be good at. With a deep breath, Cedric abandoned his charges, ignored his own injuries and ran back into the battle, having seen Professor McGonagall fall.

* * *

When Harry awoke, it was to pain and noise. At first he thought he was back at Grimmauld Place, back to hangovers and Sirius being obnoxiously loud in the morning. He soon found out that he wasn't, however, when he opened his eyes and saw Voldemort standing over him, engaged in a battle with somebody out of Harry's line of sight. Harry groaned and felt around him for his wand, the memories already beginning to flood back into his brain. He couldn't believe he had been stupid enough to fight Voldemort by himself. He had been crucioed to the point of passing out, and even then Harry was sure that the spells hadn't stopped.

Unnoticed by those around him, he crawled away from Voldemort and began making his way to the edge of the room. Those fighting around him mostly ignored him, though a few deathe aters recognised him and sent spells his way. He was able to shield them, but only just. His strength was waning, and he was losing too much blood. He was sure that his right leg was broken and from the pain in his abdomen there were surely a few cracked ribs there as well. At length, he found himself up against a wall.

As he lay there bleeding he watched his friends fall in the battle playing out before him. He saw Remus locked in a struggle with Fenrir Greyback, he saw Sirius with a metal stick dripping blood trying to fight off three death eaters at once, he saw Cedric limping out of the battle, dragging Professor Snape who was bleeding from the neck, he saw the headmaster beginning to lose the upper foot in his battle against the dark lord. And then he saw Draco, with half of his face mangled and cut to ribbons, dueling furiously with Wormtail.

And suddenly he had a renewed strength. He found a chunk of brick on the floor from one of the walls that had been destroyed and managed to transfigure it into a replica of the sword he had forced Sirius to buy him over the holidays. With great effort, he dragged himself into a standing position, testing his right leg to see if it could hold any weight. Determination scrawled all over his face, he limped back into the battle, the fighters parting before him and leaving his path to Voldemort clear. Albus, on the other side of the dark lord, widened his eyes in shock as he saw what Harry intended to do and redoubled his efforts in the duel, successfully distracting Voldemort.

With a great cry of pain, Harry brought his arm up, impaling Tom Riddle's head with his sword. There was a great scream and a wind blew up in the room, causing all other battles to pause as they watched the newly ressurected dark lord be destroyed once more.

And then Harry fainted.


	49. Chapter 49

Dun dun dunnnnn... and we're done.

I managed to finish the novel I set out to write for NaNoWriMo in 32,000 words. Which was more than annoying, because I _really _didn't want to word pad just to make the 50,000 words. So I have been writing little bits and pieces instead, like this epilogue. So you can expect The Thunder In Her Blood to be updated soon as well.

Anyway. This is it. The end.

I have a feeling (especially considering how I set the end up :P) that many of you will want a sequel, but I am afraid that I am too lazy (and too uninspired with this story :() to write it. therefore, I issue the following challenge to anyone who wishes to take it up:

*Write a sequel to Chaos!*

Rules are:

1) Harry and Sirius must continue to be badass and irresponsible, however lame and cheesy that badassery is. Because I like them that way :P

2) Dobby must feature. At least a little bit.

3) Harry and Draco must stay together (although arguments etc. are, of course, allowed) but there must be no explicit sex scenes. I have nothing against explicit sex scenes, but this just isn't that sort of story.

Other than that, do what you like :D If you do choose to do a sequel, please, please send me a link because I would love to see what you come up with.

Anyway, thank you all very very much for all of your support in this story, even the silent readers (and there are many of you! :P) are very very appreciated. And without further ado, here it is:

* * *

Epilogue

It was a week later that found Harry sitting, with Sirius, Cedric, Dobby and Remus, in Professor Dumbledore's office. They were all pretty badly beaten up, but almost all of their injuries had already been fixed, leaving only the scarring which would fade in time. Harry, for his part, was pretty proud of his new scars- apparently they gave him a rugged, dangerous look. Nobody else really saw it, but if it made Harry happy, then they were more than willing to go along with it. After all, He was now a twice-Dark-Lord-vanquisher.

Outside, the press had been going crazy, of course, but inside the walls of Hogwarts everything had been strangely calm. Fred and George Weasley hadn't even thrown a 'Harry killed Voldie' party yet. People were pretty worried about that- anytime the Weasley twins went more than a week without throwing a party meant that they were up to something. Their suspicions would be correct when, a week or two later, skiving snackboxes began appearing around the school.

But back to Dumbledore's office. The old man had summoned them all for an 'important meeting'. Sirius had been sure it was about lemon drops or something, and Harry was all for staying in bed (he had been staying in bed a lot lately- nearly dying had made him tired, it seemed) but Remus had forced them. Therefore, I'm sure it comes to no surprise that Harry and Sirius were sulking in their seats; Dobby between them looked unsure as to whether he should be sulking as well (he had been in the middle of icing a very nice cake when he had been summoned out of the kitchen to Hogwarts) and showing respect for his reading and writing teacher. The result was a sort of distorted grin paired with a frown. Everyone else was trying quite hard not to look at him.

"Now, I'm sure you're all wondering why I've called you here," Dumbledore began in a grave tone.

"Something about fucking lemon drops, no doubt," Sirius grumbled under his breath. The headmaster pretended that he hadn't heard him and carried on.

"I'm afraid that I have bad news for you all." Sirius rolled his eyes, still sulking, though Harry had perked up slightly now.

"What? You've run out of lemon drops?" Sirius muttered. Dumbledore ignored him.

"It concerns Voldemort." Cedric blanched slightly at the name; his bravery only knew certain limits and after seeing the dark lord in the flesh Cedric's fear of him had certainly heightened.

"What about the wanker? I put a sword through his head, remember?" Harry said grumpily. Part of his grumpiness was because he had been dragged out of his bed for this, but part of it was because he still hadn't managed to get his sword back. Nobody seemed to know where it was, and the most popular theory at the minute was that it had disintegrated along with Voldemort's body. Needless to say, it was a bit of a sore subject with Harry at the minute.

"That you did, Harry, but I fear that it isn't as simple as that. In your second year, Harry, you presented me with evidence that Voldemort had taken extreme measures in his quest for immortality. The diary, Harry. Ginny Weasley's diary, the one that allowed Lord Voldemort to possess her. You see, I believe that it wasn't just a diary but a horcrux." Remus was the only one who reacted to this piece of news with anything but a puzzled expression.

"A horcrux, Albus? But that's the darkest of magics..."

"Indeed, Remus. And, in fact, I am fairly sure that he did not merely make one of these heinous items."

"Wait, what _is _a horcrux?" Cedric asked, looking from Remus to the headmaster in confusion.

"It is, as Remus said, the darkest of magics. It involves putting a piece of your soul into an inanimate object, therefore tying you to this plane. It is impossible to truly die when you have a horcrux, which is exactly how Voldemort was able to rise again last week."

"What, so he's actually, like _really _immortal? _Fuck..." _Harry said, running a hand through his hair.

"In a way. But, he is still able to be defeated, just like any other evil wizard, and we shall work together to bring him down, once and for all. His body is destroyed for now, which means that he will be roaming the earth in a ghostly form, greatly weakened and unable to fight us whilst we go about destroying the last of his links to this earth." There was a pause as everybody in the room tried to process what an enormous undertaking this would be. Eventually, the silence was broken.

"Not to sound ungrateful or anything, but why am I here?" Cedric asked sheepishly, "I mean, Harry's an obvious one, as is Sirius. And Remus is obviously an expert on defence against the dark arts, so he's an obvious choice as well, and Dobby kind of comes in a package with his masters," here Dobby nodded enthusiastically, making his ears bobble about, "But I don't understand how I can help at all."

"You're not reckless, like us shits," Sirius explained before Dumbledore could even open his mouth, "I mean, we have Moony to be the sensible one, but sometimes he forgets that and throws his lot in with us, and we really are far too fucking reckless sometimes. So you, mate, are going to be the responsible one." Sirius finished with a grin, knowing too well that anybody being held responsible for him and Harry was absolutely, one hundred percent screwed.

"Really?" Cedric asked Dumbledore, an almost desperate, pleading note in his voice. The headmaster chuckled.

"Well, I suppose so," he smiled, eyes twinkling like crazy, "Although it also had a fair bit to do with your courage the other night in the battle. "

"But... I didn't do anything."

"Of course you did, my boy. You saved many people that night, which is just as honourable as fighting. If not more so." Cedric blushed.

"Alright then," Harry spoke up suddenly, with the air of having just made a decision, "Fuck it. I haven't got anything better to do."

* * *

Harry grinned as he made his way across the grounds with Sirius that afternoon. Remus had decided to stay and scour Hogwarts library for information on horcruxes or Voldemort or anything that could possibly be useful and had roped Dobby into being his assistant. Cedric had gone off to find his girlfriend, Cho, and so it was just Sirius who Harry was walking to the gates. It would be a week before Harry himself was also allowed to leave the grounds and head for the comfort of home at Grimmauld place.

"Harry!" Harry smiled and waved at Neville, Hermione, Ron and Blaise as they passed by. The four were sat under a tree by the lake and, judging by the sheer number of books dotted around them, revising for their exams. Harry smiled as he thought of Draco, himself again, even if he was confined to the Hospital wing for the time being. Because of how sudden the severing of the link between himself and his father had been, Madam Pomfrey saw fit to keep him away from the other students for the time being, for everybody's sakes. He was quite unstable at times, but he was getting better all the same. And Harry would take a slightly unstable Draco to a pureblood-mania spouting Draco any day of the week.

"Draco's coming for the holidays, yeah?" Sirius asked. Sirius had rather taken to the youngest Malfoy over Christmas, and was almost as happy as Harry was that he was back.

"Yeah, probably," Harry agreed happily, lighting a cigarette. Everything, he thought to himself, was fucking perfect. They would destroy all of Tommy's horcruxes, live off of all the press money that they would doubtless be getting for all of the 'exclusive' interviews they were planning on doling out and live happily ever after, drinking and smoking and fighting and laughing to their heart's content. Easy.

Oh, how wrong a person could be.


	50. Sequel Teaser

Right, guys. Here we go again. It's been a few years since I finished Chaos and nobody really took me up on my offer to write the sequel for me and save me the work (unfortunately ;)) so I've started it myself. At the minute it's literally the bare outlines of a plot, with a few random scenes and ideas fleshed out.

It's going to take a little while, is what I'm trying to say. I don't have much time for writing at the minute, what with working two jobs (making it a six day work week for me) and being halfway through a full-time degree, I don't have an awful lot of spare time but I really want to write this, I've sort of missed the ridiculousness that is my Harry and Sirius.

So, to keep you all going until then, I have a little teaser scene for you. Feel free to pester me semi-regularly with reviews telling me hurry the hell up.

Enjoy!

* * *

"I'm sooooo hungry!"

It was the next morning and Sirius was slumped over the dining room table at Grimmauld Place, whinging. Remus was sitting at the over end with his feet up on the table and a book in his hand. He had been ignoring Sirius for the last half hour.

"Me too," Harry said, stumbling into the room. He was in a strange state of undress- strange because he had nothing on but a pair of boxers and a cloak. Draco, who came in behind his boyfriend, was wearing a much more sensible outfit of flannel pyjamas.

Sirius and Remus took a moment out of their busy schedules to stare at their godson. They decided as one not to even bother asking.

"Mmm," Draco hummed, "I tried to stop him from wearing it, but apparently it was this or nothing and I didn't think the moon liked to be out during the day."

Harry studiously ignored his boyfriend, preferring to hunt through the cupboards to see if they actually had any food in the house. Dobby had gone on an errand for Dumbledore and they had been left to fend for themselves, so this wasn't likely.

Sirius edged noisily down the table until he was next to Remus, who he poked ever so subtly in the ribs.

"Oi," he whispered in the sort of whisper that carries all the way across the room, "Is it just me, or is he starting to remind you of that Luna chick Harry's friends with?"

"Be nice," Remus whispered back, in a whisper that was actually quiet. Sirius began to pout but then remembered that Harry would be pissed if he wasn't nice to Draco and nodded solemnly instead.

"We have no food," Draco told them, sliding into a seat at the table. Harry snapped, just a little bit.

"How do you even know that? It's impossible for you to know that! Stop knowing things that it's impossible for you to know!"

Draco turned wide eyes on his boyfriend. He looked a little pathetic in his flannel pyjamas just then, and even Harry felt guilty for his outburst. He was just getting pretty freaked out. He hadn't had a cigarette in two days (we won't get into why) and he wasn't sure that his brain was made for having to deal with the slightly confusing mess that Draco was right now.

"It was just a guess. Dobby's been gone a week and I didn't think that any of you knew how to do food shopping. And I definitely don't. Well, Remus might." He glanced at Remus who shook his head minutely. The werewolf's eyes conveyed his shame.

"See, it wasn't a crazy thing."

"Ah, well. Whatever. Malfoy's right. We have no food. Moooooony…"

Sirius, Harry and Draco all turned to grin at Remus as one in a move that would unnerve him for years.


	51. Chaos Two: Fuck Authority now up!

I may have forgotten to leave a note here to say that Chaos Two: Fuck Authority chapter one is now up! I'm going to try to update every couple of weeks, or, with any luck, every week, so make sure to check it out :)


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